Knock On Wood
by Era Yachi
Summary: What gives a person the will to live? Clive soon finds that not all is well in his world. Kaitlyn is only one left that will make his life worth living.
1. Outlaws

**AN:**

**I promised myself I wouldn't do this. I said to myself, "Laura, you will NOT write a fanfiction with Clive in it!" Yep. I said it over and over again. There's a good, thick line between characters and _respectable_ characters, and I'm dancing all over it.**

**Sigh.**

**Well, it's been a while since there's been a Clive story. (with the exception of Black Waltz 0's _Lust Jaw_) and I'm tired of reading Skylark's fanfictions over and over again (COUGH. UPDATE. COUGH) so here I am, completely disbanding my promise that not only would I refrain from starting a new fanfiction with _Turbulence_ in the process, but I swore off writing about Clive, too.**

**I would like to take a moment to mention Skylark again. Why? Because it was her countless Clive fanfictions that inspired me to even consider this kid of thing. Well, anyway. Will it work? Will my aspirations come true? What will become of it all? Will Era Yachi ever shut up? Well, I suppose to answer all these questions, I should start writing! Well! Fine!**

………

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_Summary…._

As we all know, Virginia and the gang decided to 'check on things' at the end of the game. They also decide to 'check on' Humphrey's Peak first, and off they go. They summary? Things aren't good at Humphrey's Peak. In fact, nothing's okay. At least, not for Clive…

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**Chapter One: Outlaws**

The four drifters rode, their backs to East and the sun blazing a clear storm high above their heads. Everything was hot. The saddles were hot, their heads and necks were hot, the horses' flanks were hot; even their dwindling supply of water was warmer than it was bearable to drink.

For three days it had been this way, the scorching temperatures rising to an all-time high until it felt as if a kiln had been hung above their heads and a fire lit inside each one. Sweat trickling from their brows, ridding their poor bodies of the precious moisture they were trying to preserve. At the moment, however, it was too much effort to lift a sleeve to brush away the perspiration. They rode in mutually irksome silence.

Their tired steeds plodded forward, snorting occasionally to dispatch the flies that favoured their nostrils and ears. These soft whickers and complaints made of one of two characters in the traveling symphony. The other melodies were the jingles and clatters of their waterskins and other assortments lashed to their saddle straps.

Virginia hunched forward in her seat, her eyes trained drowsily on the smudge of dirt just at the tip of the saddle horn. A pace or so to her left, Jet sat with a smug, yet irritated expression plastered on his face, discreetly glancing at her every so often, as if to make sure she hadn't fallen off. Gallows was not arguing with Jet, either. His face, so normally bright and sarcastic, was stone-cold and worn out. He hadn't spoken since they made their departure from the station.

Clive was faring better, for the most part. Although the heat had convinced him to remove his heavy coat (it lay draped across his lap for the time being) his ability to tolerate the weather was admirable. He felt grim, however, and slightly responsible for his friends' ailing status.

Jet made a sudden movement, which drew the green-haired drifter's half-hearted attention. Slowly, almost carefully, Jet removed his flattened waterskin from its bag and brought the warm remedy to his lips. Clearly unhappy with its uninviting temperature, he crumpled the empty skin in his hand and stuffed it back into his bag. He then wiped his mouth and narrowed his eyes. "So, we're lost," he said loudly, not without contempt.

"Jet, that's just silly," said Virginia, her voice slightly cracked from disuse and dryness. She thought for a moment. "We're all just as tired as you are. Oh, my…" She released a sigh and lifted a gloved hand to her face. "Look how burned you are! Jet, did you even touch the lotion I gave you?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "The horse puke? Not likely."

"It was _not_ horse puke!" she chided angrily. Her face flushed to a tone that nearly matched his sunburn. "My aunt taught me that recipe!"

"Whatever," he said, with a definite note of finality. "Obviously, it doesn't work that well. Your face is worse than mine."

She crossed her arms stubbornly. "For your information, Mr. Sourpuss, I didn't have any to put on!"

Jet snorted. "That's your fault, not mine. 'Sides, Gallows thought it was puke, too."

Virginia turned her eyes on the Baskar and immediately frowned. Sure enough, Gallows' face was even worse than Jets'. He looked sullenly at quarreling duo, but said nothing.

"You men," growled Virginia through her teeth. "You're all the same! I went through all that trouble to mix up Aunt Shalte's special sunblock!" She chose that moment to look towards Clive, who bore a lost, thoughtful expression. Her wrath lessened considerably when she realized that the oldest drifter's face was just as pale as it had always been, with a slight touch of pink. "Clive, you used it! Thank you, at least my efforts weren't all gone to the dust!"

Seemingly startled from his train of thought, he jerked his head towards their female leader and paused for a speechless moment before responding. "Actually," he said with some guilt. "I find that I do not burn as easily as others. My share of the ointment is still in my pack…"

Virginia's face flushed wildly. "Th-that's....!" Her voice wavered in an attempt to reason her fury. "Ugh! I won't bother!"

For another half hour they traveled in silence. Virginia had quieted down considerably, and sulked with an air to suit the mood of Gallows. Jet smirked the entire time, apparently triumphant over their sunblock battle. The only rider thinking about something other than sunblock or the ruins of Baskar was Clive. His thoughts drifted elsewhere, as if scouring the distance they still had to travel before they reached the door to their blue-roofed destination.

For a long week following their decision to return to Humphrey's Peak, he'd been anticipating the moment he would see the unharmed structure tucked in the corner of the cozy little town. His fears would not be suppressed until he opened the door and found nothing changed at all. There would be Kaitlyn, sitting in the chair near the door, reading her Adventure novels. Catherine would be cleaning, or more likely cooking a meal to host her approaching guests. Nothing would be changed at all.

His fear was unchecked, however, for the time being. Certainly, he'd been away from them for even longer periods of time before, but without even knowing the end results of Beatrice's effect on the world, he could not help but accept the twisting anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He had written, and sent his highest hopes with its delivery, but what was there to do but worry? There could be no reply for him; he was traveling and no letter could possibly trace him on horseback. There was nothing, nothing he could do, not until he arrived.

_Monsters..._

No, to think that way would only worsen his situation. Of course, the grotesquely large hordes of creatures Beatrice had released before her demise had been overwhelming. Even after they had vacated the tower when they left, the flow of the evil minions was not definitely halted. There could be worse things...

His mind drifted towards the sound of Virginia's voice. She sighed before making her comment.

"I still can't understand why Lombardia would just...disappear."

Clive looked up again, brushing away the remains of his former thoughts. The perspiration on his face was making it difficult to keep his glasses in place, and he found himself once again pushing them up the bridge of his nose. "It is logical to assume that she fled when the Ark rose from the ground. Given her position, I am surprised she did not destroy the Ark while we were still on board."

Virginia nodded sombrely. "I wonder if she's looking for us now...You don't think she would just...forget about us?"

"Maybe," said Gallows. It being the first thing he'd said since the train ride, everyone's attention was immediately drawn to him. "She probably flew the coop when she saw trouble headed her way."

"What does it matter?" Jet spoke up irritably. "Do you think the Ark is gonna miss something as big as a dragon cruising the sky?"

Virginia looked downcast, but she did not reprimend him. "I suppose Jet's right," she said, dismissively. "We can't ask her to endanger herself any more than she already has. I just hope she's okay."

"I am sure she is reasonably safe," said Clive. "Even for a dragon, she is remarkably self-absorbed."

They rode on in foreboding silence. While none was angry with the other, the very stress they had suffered as a whole over the past few days hung over their head like a stagnant cloud. The mood seemed to drag on with every passing hour, while the heat continued to rise and the sun rained down mercilessly on their (unfortunately) unprotected skin.

No one had to ask Clive about his problems. His reason for being so secretively restless was more than obvious, even more so than Gallow's undying grief over the ruins of Baskar.

They all had reason to be worried. All except for Jet, who had taken the recent events in stride, not to mention certain scorn. Why were these things happening? What _exactly_ had Beatrice done to the world?

After their brief skirmish with Dario and Romero, everything had begun to click in place. All of the puzzle pieces felt neatly into place.

Virginia's sudden change in physique, the strange reactions the villagers had given them upon discovering their names, the news of devastations all over the world that did not even begin to seem in any way possible…they were all clues to the obvious.

When they met Shane, scarcely three days ago, everything became clear.

Filgaia did not _change_. Filgaia had _aged_. And everything with it.

According to Gallows' brother, five years had passed since the Maxwell Gang had gone missing from the face of the planet. After two years of searching, Shane had given up looking for his long-lost brother and returned to Baskar when the news of pending danger reached him. However, the young priest had arrived much too late to do anything. Baskar had been reduced to smoldering embers and ashes by an unknown device.

An unknown device also commonly known as the Ark of Destiny.

This was by far the hardest news for Gallows to take. His 'Granny', one much loved by him (although he would _never_ had admitted it before) was apparently gone. His entire home had been turned into dust and memories. His very spirit broke with it.

Ten years before the victory over Beatrice, Filgaia's memories had been destroyed. This time, for a reason that would forever remain a mystery, _time_ had changed in the bare instant it took for their four minds to return to reality.

Now they traveled on, each with their own predictions in tow. With Baskar gone, most likely destroyed out of sheer spite and hatred for one of Lepante's murderers, there was no telling what state the other towns were in. People were older, some former acquaintances now deceased, their lives altered in ways they'd never dreamed of. What was worse, it was very clear that the group of four had not been spared the five years. Virginia was no longer eighteen, but twenty-three. Gallows was no longer twenty-three, but twenty-eight. Clive had gone from thirty to thirty-five, and every one of them had undergone such changed within a small period of time.

Clive's mind was shrouded with negativity. Catherine -- what if she had…moved on? What if some harm had befallen her while he had been suspended, helpless, in the rings of time? And Kaitlyn…

She would no longer be the little girl he'd spent so many enjoyable hours reading to, or brushing her hair or telling her to eat her celery. She would be a young teenager, very grown up, matured and full of ambition. All those years, gone, forever, and he would never get to see them.

All this while, Virginia sat poised in her saddle, watching the oldest Drifter muse in melancholy silence. When she could take no more of the bitter feelings, she spoke up. "Clive, I know how you feel about them. I don't think you're going to help yourself by worrying about it so much! Think of how happy everyone will be when you return! Besides, Catherine is a _very_ strong woman. No matter what happened while we were…gone…I don't think she'd let all that stand in her way."

Clive looked at his mildly, hardly able to contain his surprise. At times like these, it was very much like her to be lost in her own thoughts and fears. After all, Boot Hill was in just as much danger of being attacked by the Ark as his own hometown. If anything, he'd expected her to be contemplating the fate of her relatives.

The green-haired Drifter was unable to respond, however, for a stern outspoken word dispatched his chance.

"Hey," came Jet's slightly relieved, but controlled voice. "Look at that."

Clive swore that his heart was _almost _too weak to take in the sight. Irreplaceable joy and respite overwhelmed him when the unmistakably intact figure of Humphrey's Peak came into view just over the ridge they had crossed. The town was closer than anyone had been expecting. So close in fact that the faded sounds of yelling, laughing and unhappy children reached his ears. However isolated the sounds were, they were nothing less than music to his ears.

"There's the nest," said Gallows with limited restrain. "But the eggs are what count."

Clive nodded slowly. That was true. Humphrey's Peak may be alive and thriving, but what would it matter if his own nest had been deserted?

One miracle at a time, he reminded himself.

Under the pulsing sun, they neared the town with very little anticipation concerning their dwindled supplies or untidy bearing. Even Jet, it seemed, harboured a certain veiled interest in the well-being of Clive's family. There was no telling what they could expect, especially after 'five' years had passed. They were all hoping as well, that some random stroke of luck would right their day. Or at least, Clive's day.

...Perhaps his entire life as he knew it.

He had been living through these vivid dreams for a while. Of course there had been the ones where his little hometown had gone up in flames, and he'd returned to the devastation of his house and the bodies of those he'd loved. They weren't at all common until three nights ago, when that nightmared breathed itself into another peaceful village. The sight of a bloodied and ravaged Baskar Colony had only the green-haired Drifter's sleepless nights.

Humphrey's Peak bustled. It did not only swell with a massive population entirely foreign to him, but Clive was utterly astounded to find that the scenery had warped dramatically as well. No longer was this the quiet Humphrey's Peak he'd known his entire life but a loud, squalling mess of commercial calls, aristocrats and beggars. This was a town expanded and littered with garbage, with new buildings lining the streets, windows broken, doors bashed in, cobwebs spreading. It was dusty, busy, hot, insane and controlled by a thread of social grace.

This was _not_ his hometown.

The main square (that was still there, but what _had _it become?) was lined with shops of all degrees. Fish, rotten by the sun and strung with bits of twine with lying signs, fruits, novelites, cooking wear, meats and livestock...every imaginable shop stood open to the hordes of buyers and sellers that crawled in all directions. It was literally impossible to train your eyes on one person and track them successfully through the crowd.

Clive's horse sombred forward, obviously as frightened as a the poor animal could be without spooking or bolting. While his mount quivered, Clive rode forth across the bridge, stone-faced and quite pale compared to his formerly reddened complexion. There was no end to this...atrocity.

"What in blue hound's heaven..." came Virginia's unarguably startled voice. She jerked her head towards Clive, her eyes wide and woundrous. "Clive, is there some sort of festival this time of year?"

He would have like to say that there was. But he could not, sadly, for many reasons. What time of year was it? He certainly did not know, and simply pulling someone aside seemed like a bad idea at the moment. Besides, what kind of festival looked like this? No, this was sheer commercial business. The air itself smelled thick and musty, as if the past five years had trapped the same atmosphere in one place.

Gallows was the one to voice his opinion. "This ain't no fancy celebration. Looks like a shady market or some kind of barely legal operation. Ugh! Something smells like dead fish..."

"Maybe its the dead fish," snorted Jet irritably. "Well, it's still here, ain't it? What's with the long face?"

This comment was, of course, directed towards Clive. The older Drifter glanced sullenly towards the silver-haired man and did nothing to show a response. Instead, he nudge his timid mount even further along the street. His eyes were searching, it seemed, through the misty smoke and swirling colours as people swarmed around his horse's flanks.

"Clive, there!" cried Virginia above the noise. She gestured eagerly towards the glimpse of light blue through the gaps in the crowd. Clive recognized the roof of his house.

No chance. There was no chance at all. With so much change confronting him all at once, he was finding it increasingly difficult to believe that Catherine would live in such a painfully altered world. There wasn't even a reason to dismount and face that cold, hard truth.

He looked up in time to see Virginia's mount brush past him. After a few strides, she gathered up her reins and dismounted. Clive was barely able to catch her voice above the flowing commotion.

"Clive, come on! Don't just sit there, let's go inside!"

Yes, inside. Where he would confront the truth, even if he didn't like it. Quietly, Clive slid from his mount's back and landed softly on the cobblestone. Virginia was by his side and urging him forward before he even knew she'd doubled back through the crowd. Always compliant to her cause, he allowed himself to be drawn to the familiar door with the unfamiliar shadows that lay behind it.

Clive almost reached for the handle, before the first wave of 'truth' hit him. If this was indeed no longer his house, it would seem very inplolite to simply intrude on the residents. He lifted his gloved hand and, rather awkwardly, rapped on the wooden surface a few times.

He waited. He waited some more. To his left, Virginia began to chew her lip nervously. A long minute passed and still nothing happened.

Finally, after the suspenseful hesitation, the faint clicking of disarming locks was heard from the opposite side. The door jerked open an inch, and the swung open the rest of the way.

Clive's heart surged.

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**Muahaha. I am evil. Well, I hope you like it enough to review! It's a cliffhanger! So, is Cathering really there? Who will answer the door? Is all LOST for Clive? Tune in (er...read....in...) next time for the next install-**

**Ah, just come back later. wanders off aimlessly**


	2. Outlanders

**_Knock On Wood_**

**__**

**AN:**

**Hey hey! I decided to not wait for the reviews. Who checks the new stories anyway?  Er, anyway, here's the next chapter. May all your cliffhanger worries be dismissed! **

**Oh, um…in the previous chapter I accidentally called Lamium-toddles away- **

**Teefa85 -- **Ah, look, a review! Thank you, your contribution of time and patience means a _lot_ to me, really! And yes, actually this was not what I originally planned, but it seems to fit well. I'll wing it from here. twiddles her thumbs

**WARNING: This fanfiction contains major spoilers.**

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**            Chapter 2: Outlanders.**

"Yes?"

            Time seemed to melt into bronze minutes, dropping on the green-haired drifter from above an bruising every bit of his exposed, hopeful conscience.

            The haggard old woman blinked at him cruelly. "Well, what is it you want? I'm not buying anything. Whatever you're selling, I don't want it and you certainly won't want anything of mine."

            All at once, the horrible frozen feeling in his chest seemed to dispel, if only slightly. Clive faltered, looking rather taken aback and quickly adjusted his glasses in a humble manner. "Please excuse me," he said hastily. He had already begun to turn around when he felt Virginia grab his shoulder and hold him in place.

            "Excuse _us_," she said politely, stepping into view of the old lady. "We're looking for someone who may have lived her a little while ago. Her name is Catherine."

            The elderly woman's eyes seem to flicker with faint recognition at the name. "Oh, I see," she muttered, glancing about the madness of people outside her door. "Well, don't just stand there. Come in, dears."

            "Um," said Virginia, perhaps a little too quickly. "We actually have two other friends, and this is really important..."

            Gallows and Jet seemingly appeared from nowhere. Jet appeared surly, irritated and bored as usual, but the Baskar was almost eager in his approach. While they shuffled towards Clive's 'former' house, the old woman regarded them with surprised amusement.

            "My goodness," she commented, although kindly. "A regular pack of vagabonds, aren't you? Well, I suppose I'll have to trust you if you know Catherine."

            A tiny flame of wonder struck inside Clive's hollowed chest. "Is she here?" he asked with a hushed tone.

            The woman stared quietly, but hesitated before answering. "I believe you should all come in, now. I reckon Catherine knew this was going to happen..."

            As she disappeared into the dark interior of 'her' house, Virginia exchanged looks with the Drifter at her side. There was no solemn apology yet, but her gaze explained every ounce of concern they now shared. Whatever this woman meant by what she said, there was a terribly dark cloud brewing almost certain negativity in their minds.

            Gallows cleared his throat, drawing their attention. The Baskar held out his arm, bearing Clive's red coat. "Uh, here," he said uncertainly. "You probably don't want this stolen. I don't even need to be a priest to tell there's bad apples in this crowd."

            Clive half-whispered something close to a "Thank you," and relieved Gallows of the garment. He thrust one arm through a sleeve before flipping it around and placing his other arm in its place. In utter silence he adjusted the coat so that it fit comfortably on his shoulders. "Let us take in this woman's hospitality," he went on. His mind then seemed to change. "She knows Catherine..."

            "So what are we waiting for?" said Virginia, always attempting to be cheerful. It failed, however, nice as her intention was. "We'll follow you."

            Clive did not speak, or nod, but he did agree on a level of solemn integrity. Ignoring the invisible cloud of misfortune that draped around him, the Drifter stepped into the gloomy interior of the old lady's 'house'.

            At first, he'd felt convinced that nothing had changed at all. For the most part that was true, especially when it came to the arrangement of furniture and ornaments. Some things had been replaced, like the tapestries that normally hung beside the window on the far wall. The place certainly smelled different, more…elderly. It was unmistakably dim, it seemed. The drapes were drawn shut and the only light radiated from an oil lamp in the corner of the room.

            The old woman had retreated towards the far end of the room. She smiled as the four Drifters arrived in her home, waving her hand as she sidestepped into the kitchen.

            Her somewhat sophisticated voice drifted through the open doorway. "Would any of your youngsters like a nice spot of tea? It's an old family recipe…"

            Standing rather near the door, the four Drifters exchanged glances with one another. Clive was disinterested in anything but the present situation; Virginia did not need to ask him whether or not he wanted some tea. She herself didn't care for tea, or coffee for that matter. One look towards Gallows confirmed that his desire for anything was limited.

            Which left Jet. Virginia turned her gaze on him and found him staring straight back at her. "Do I look like I want some damn tea?" he wanted to know.

            Virginia sighed and dropped her shoulders slightly. "No thank you," she said loudly, hopefully loudly enough for the aged lady to hear her.

            The woman did apparently, for she appeared at the kitchen doorway again barren of any pot of tea saucers. Her expression had not changed whatsoever, and to describe it would prove difficult in words. She bore the appearance of a weary traveler relieved of their worn-out shoes. She also had a glint of sad hope in her eyes. To make the description complete, she seemed to be lost in deep thought, or engulfed in a fit of emotional turmoil.

            Just like Clive.

            However, Clive was not the first to break the silence. Instead, Virginia stepped forward and faced away from the sofa. "May I?" she inquired courteously, indicating the seat she had chosen.

            "Why dear, of course you may," the old woman breathed. "In fact, why don't you all take a seat? I'm afraid this will take some time to explain."

            Clive felt a sudden panic rise within him. "Catherine--" he said with a sudden fever. "Is she safe?"

            "Patience," the old woman insisted. Her tone was slightly more cross than it had been before, but she practiced exactly what she preached and kept her temper. "I implore you, take your seats! I will answer anything within my knowledge once we are settled down."

            There was a awkward moment of milling about before all four Drifters had found a place to sit down. Jet completely ignored the turning events and stationed himself against the wall nearby. Whatever the case was, it couldn't have anything to do with him.

            "Now," said the old woman. She hobbled forward and gently lowered herself into an empty armchair. A moment passed as she removed her tiny spectacles, ran a hand over her face, and replaced them. "Before we begin, let us introduce ourselves. My name is Arabella Vercant, and I am the caretaker of this abode, not the owner."

            Clive started to get to his feet. "Cather-"

            "Oh, do sit!" the lady snapped. She clasped her hands together tightly in front of her. "Before you start berating me, allow me to finish what I am saying!"

            Slowly, almost dazedly, the green-haired Drifter sat back down.

            "_Now_," the old woman repeated herself. "My name is Arabella, but you can call me Belle. As for Catherine, yes, she is the legal owner of this estate. But-"

            Here it came, Clive realized. There was no blocking this out, there was a definite reason for the old woman to draw this conversation out, and it most certainly was _not _a happy thing.

            "Is Catherine okay?" came Virginia's voice. There, she had voiced the question he never would have faced himself.

            Belle paused a little longer, and then sighed. "I honestly believe so, yes. Unfortunately, I have not seen nor spoke to her in three years."

            A cold, black bell tolled in Clive's head. Although it was difficult to detect in the dimness, his face blanched of its colour as the second wave of truth struck him down. He could not bring himself to form any reply, but to merely stare at his gloved hands in a thoughtless stupor.

            "I'll explain the best I can," said the old woman. "Catherine fell ill shortly after her husband's disappearance. For as long as I've known her, she had chosen not to believe that he was truly dead. I suppose she had reason too, considering how the Ark put a fantastic reward on his head for his death or capture."

            At this, everyone but Clive flinched inwardly. Had the old woman presumed their identity, or was she merely voicing her opinion?

            "When she hired me to take care of the house and her daughter, she told me that she had waited for much for his return," Belle went on. "I tried to talk some sense into her, of course, but she had her heart set on becoming a Drifter to search for him."

            Another pang shot through Clive's head. How much more could he take in a single hour…?

            "Kaitlyn, her daughter, became grossly involved with books after that," said the old woman with a ring of sadness. "With her mother left to search for her missing father, she began to feel restless and, in my opinion, foolish. I hardly saw her without her nose in one of her father's books after that. And that child, she read through each and every volume within months! Before I knew it, our conversations at dinnertime mainly consisted of Filgaia's Theory and the leylines of planetary lifeblood! Crystals, historic craters, something called the Hyades Project and Yggdrasil, were all topics she took absolute delight in explaining to me over and over again."

            "Catherine returned home only twice after setting out. The first time, I was appalled to wake and find her lying on the living room floor, bloodied and weary! However, with the aid of Cheville, we were able to fix her up and feed her. And, joyous as those few moments she spent home again were, she left scarcely a week after that. The second time she returned, she told me. All of it. She explained to me everything her husband had told her about Guardians, the Demons and the Blue Menace. It was heartbreaking. In that very same day, she made me promise that should she fail to return within that year that I would turn ownership of the estate to her daughter. Also -- she was so quiet by this -- she had me promise to give this letter--" Belle withdrew a folded note from the drawer of an end table, "--to her husband should he ever return." The old woman paused sorrowfully. "I haven't the faintest idea where she went, but she must have known it would be dangerous to make me promise such dreadful things."

            There was an understandable lack of words in the room following Belle's tale. Now the elderly housekeeper sighed, and unclasped her hands. "It has been three years since I last saw her."

            As the silence continued, Clive managed to formulate the words he wished to speak first in his head, then on his lips. "Kaitlyn…where is she now?"

            Belle set her mouth in a thin line, allowing her lack of an immediate response spell out the trouble it caused for her to explain these situations. "That poor child is another story, I regret to say. She is not here now, if that is what you mean. Lately, she has taken to leaving the house without consulting me beforehand. I know she travels to those monster-infested ruins. She has become so strong of will these past years, however. There is nothing I can do, I fear. I am, after all, an old woman and she is just starting her earliest days of womanhood!"

            Another pang. That was right, of course. It was a difficult thing for Clive to imagine, but his little girl was no longer eight years old. The guilt was heavy, heavier than the leaden air that blanketed the town.

            Virginia knew Clive, and Clive trusted her to say the right things when he was disabled to. Swallowing dryly, the young female Drifter averted her eyes to the floor and spoke.. "We're…friends of Catherine. We had heard rumours, but we really didn't think…"

            Gallows, never being particular to being left out, took up their leader's end of the conversation. "So uh, Miss Bell…uh, ma'am. Kaitlyn snuck out what, this morning? You think she'll be back by tonight?"

            "Oh goodness no," said the elderly woman, shaking her head. "That young lady sometimes disappears for days at a time! Once, I tried hiring a young man from the village to find her, but she has this nasty habit of finding the newest places to hide. I do worry about her, truly. She is, after all, like my own grandchild to me."

            _And she is_, thought Clive, _my very own daughter_. He could not help but feel slightly angered with this woman, who spoke as if she were Kaitlyn's last living relative.

            Then again, he thought regretfully, _he_ was the one who had vanished from her life these past five 'years'.

            "Dear me!" Belle suddenly exclaimed. "How silly of me to get ahead of myself like that. I don't even know your names, do I? If of course, you don't mind sharing them."

            Virginia hesitated, although she tried to appear completely casual. "Um…of course," she said, and thought as quickly as her brain would allow. "I'm…Cecile, this is Morgan," she said, gesturing to Gallows. She then looked at Clive. "Um…"

            "Ah, my dear, you needn't rush into things," said the old woman, a little mysteriously. "Now, if I can recall…oh, yes! You are…Clive Winslett, I presume?"

            Virginia's face dropped as if she'd run headlong into a brick wall and the pain had yet to register. Clive's expression was similar, although somewhat not as subtle. Bell chuckled merrily.

            "I admire your daughter, Mr. Winslett," she said with a small sigh. "Although I suppose I must wonder _where_ you have been and just _how _important this job of your must have been for you to so shamelessly abandon such a sweet child!"

            Virginia's shock was easily overcome with a tousled fury. "Wait just a darn minute!" she cried sharply. "You have no idea how hard it's been for Clive! How can you even believe, for just _one _second that he would-"

            "Virginia," came Clive's moderate voice. For a few seconds, the entire room was deathly quiet. Clive lowered his face slightly, apparently in control of himself once more. "I appreciate your help, but I believe it is more practical to explain ourselves before starting an argument."

            The female Drifter huffed, but obliged him promptly, although she did not spare the elderly woman a _very_ callous glare.

            "I am…" Clive searched for the words that would best explain his reasoning. "…haunted by the thought of abandoning my family. I have always felt that, in some way, my methods of researching Filgaia's memories were the wrong thing to do. I cannot recall a day that has passed that I did not whole-heartedly regret my decision to pursue the cause of Filgaia's decay."

            "How interesting," said the old woman. Whatever warmth there had been in her voice earlier was now greatly subdued. "I would be even _more_ interested to know exactly why it is that you chose to hide for so long? A simple letter would have prevented this entire catastrophe! I have spent the past five years wondering what kind of father this 'Clive Winslett' was to put such a terrible burden on his daughter! Not to mention Catherine, who I think no less of than my own daughter!"

            He could not. How did he explain that there had been no five years change? At least, not for him. In five years, he'd done no more than breathe once and watch as their bodies were expelled from Beatrice's palace of nightmares. There could not have been a letter, there could not haven been a return for him…until now.

            "Lady," said Gallows, "you've got Clive all wrong. I mean, they don't exactly sell postcards where he's been…"

            "That's right! Clive is a kind, caring father!" Virginia spoke up. "It's not his fault that he was chosen by the Guardians, or that the Dark Spear was awakened or that Beatrice corrupted the minds of Filgaia! We were stuck in Beatrice's own dimension. It's her fault he disappeared for so long, _not _his!"

            Bell's eyes widened slightly as she listened to this volley of new information. There was some vague recognition of those words, but she herself had never been able to fully comprehend them as they flew so quickly from Kaitlyn's mouth. "I think," she said carefully, "you should start from the beginning. Tell me _exactly _what has happened."

            Clive took over at this point. Holding up his hand to silence Virginia from launching into a mad dash of answers, he began to tell their story from the moment they had met on the train. He knew the tale would take a great deal of the day, but quite frankly, he cared less.

            As long as Kaitlyn was at sake, there was nothing he would not do.

            ----------------

            **So there you go. Um…next chapter! Will they make Arabella understand? Is Clive REALLY a terrible father? And WHERE is Kaitlyn? GASP!**

**            Avoid making melodrama contracts with me, please.** 


	3. Outstand

**_Knock On Wood_**

**__**

**AN:**

**Er, it's official. I'm doomed to mess up! All right, all right. In the previous chapter, I said  in my Author's Note... "****Oh, um…in the previous chapter I accidentally called Lamium..."**

**What I MEANT to say of course, was that I accidentally called Lamium "Lepante" and it's really Lamium...and well...er...never mind. --'**

**--**

**It's not that I don't care...but I think I'll sum up my replies to reviews at the bottom of each chapter. That way it doesn't take up (sigh) _half _of my chapters, which actually makes the fanfiction have many many more words when it's REALLY just half that much, or less....er...rambling, yes. Sorry. -backs away slowly-**

**-------------------**

**                Chapter Three: Outstand **

The sun loomed in the window, spilling through the glass and washing over his face and piercing through his eyelids. Clive woke immediately and winced, groggily lifting his arm to block the merciless onslaught of light. Realizing with faint dilemma that it was morning, he sighed and relaxed against the familiar comfort of his very own bed.

                The evening had ended quietly. It was well past eight o'clock when Clive had finally stopped talking. Without so much as a second thought to his story, Bell had generously offered the Drifters each a bed for the night. Clive's bed, in fact, had been vacant for quite some time. According to the old housekeeper, the bed he'd taken the previous night belonged to the "Missus" and no one else. Also according to Bell's cunning sense of formality, she had made an "exception" for Clive and "allowed" him to sleep in it. He was, after all, the husband of the "Missus".

                And so, with Virginia in Kaitlyn's bed, Jet on the couch and Gallows (ever so grudgingly) on the floor, the night stretched on rather peacefully.

                Clive lied still for another full minute, allowing his senses some relief. Waking up here, at the same time he always did, in this bed in this house that was his own...was it supposed to bear familiarity? Disturbing as it was, he could not deny that the room, the air and the muffled sounds of stirring marketers outside were all foreign. Had he merely woken from a very long and horrific dream? Then again, why would it relieve him?

                It would not, as he came to understand. No matter what, this is where he was and he could not go back.

                If only Kaitlyn...but no, that was unquestionably selfish of him to consider. He had observed the devastating results of a family so split apart second-hand. Aside from his fearing for her, there was little other reason to return here and get her involved...

                No! There it was, that tormenting little voice that completely overwhelmed all reason and emotional charge. This was how Virginia's father thought, he realized. To the very point and purpose, this notion of a distant protection is what would destroy him, hands down.

                His thoughts drifted towards the present time. Hesitantly, for he wanted little else than to remain exactly where he was, Clive rose from the bed and stood up. Immediately, he reached out to retrieve his glasses from the top of the nearby dresser and slid them on. A little foolishly, he realized, he had not removed his coat before collapsing into dreamless slumber the night before.

                The adjoining room was deathly still as he entered. Sure enough, Gallows lay sprawled across the carpet in a gangly, almost humourous manner. Jet snored quietly nearby, with one arm dangling over the edge of the couch, which was actually slightly smaller than it needed to be to accommodate him.

                A slight shuffling sound brought his attention to the doorway located to his right. Virginia emerged from Kaitlyn's room, oddly pale and obviously weary. Then she smiled. "Morning, Clive!" she greeted him, yet again using her best not-so-elated yet cheerful voice.

                "Good morning, Virginia," said Clive, although not as forced. He stood for a moment while observing the silent shadows on the walls. "Did I wake you? It is still rather early to start preparing to leave."

                Her smile faded a little, and she paused before replying. "No, you didn't wake me up. But, leave? Are we going to leave without even waiting for Kaitlyn to come back?"

                Clive faltered, recognizing his mistake. That was a good question, and he wasn't entirely he had the answer to it. Maybe it was because he was so accustomed to traveling every day that he had assumed their departure. On the other hand, he wasn't so positive. Again, there was indecision.

                "Virginia, may I ask you something?" he inquired, keeping his voice a level above a whisper.

                Her face brightened immediately, although why was beyond him. "Of course you may, Clive! That's what I'm here for, right?"

                Clive felt awkward. Now, did he really have the right to come out and ask her something he was unsure of himself? Well, he decided. He had better, before the others woke up and the situation grew worse.

                "When you told us of your father…" he said. "Do you remember? Following his departure, you felt…"

                Virginia's faced dropped immediately. She did not express any anger, but definite seriousness was tolling now. "Lonely?" she offered. "Scared and sad, as if someone took your spirit right out of your body and shut it away in a box, somewhere far, far away…"

                This struck the other Drifter quite hard. He had not expected her to become so blunt, and yet…understanding. He cast his eyes to the floor. "Yes," he said. "I was also looking for 'angry', or 'betrayed'…did you feel any of these things?"

                She looked slightly surprised at this, but she managed to conceal the better part of it. "Clive! Do you really think Kaitlyn feels that way towards you? I mean, well, it's…even if she did, you know it wasn't your fault! You said so yourself, right? Some things can't be changed, no matter how hard you try…"           

                "You do not understand, Virginia," said the green-haired Drifter. His tone was still hushed, but obviously more urgent than it had been moments ago. "I have been absent from her world for a significant part of her life…I am solely responsible for Catherine, as well…"

                "Don't say that!" she whispered fiercely. "You couldn't control what happened with Beatrice, Clive…_no _one could!"

                Clive went silent after that, setting his jaw firmly with a sort of fierce determination that was not so foreign to him. When a few, wistfully empty moments had passed, he sighed. "I apologize," he said at last. "I acted irrationally…Virginia, I cannot help but feel overwhelmed…she is my daughter. She is also my responsibility…"

"And you love her?" Virginia's mouth formed a tight, confident smile.

                 He looked at her first in surprise, and then understanding. "Yes, I do."

                There came a noise from behind, startling them both. A cracked voice broke the stunned silence. "She went to that place, you know. Oh, what did it say in her letter…" There was a pause. "Oh yes…'Doomed to Obscurity'? I certainly hope that rings a bell, Clive Winslett."

                Sure enough, Bell lurked in the dim shadows near the kitchen door. Her face was split with a smile revealing a set of crooked (yet surprisingly intact) set of teeth. "Well?" she wanted to know. "What are you waiting for? Get packing! You will need supplies, of course…"

                Bell's loud exclamation was the last straw for the sleeping duo. A loud snort was heard from the floor, where Gallows suddenly shot up, wide-awake and (much to everyone else's amusement) completely stumped by his surroundings. "What, what…? Whoa? No breakfast? We're leaving?" He appeared to gather his senses a little. "Uh, sorry…need me to supply?"

                Virginia sighed at this, when normally she would have been the first to laugh. "We can handle the supplies together, Gallows."

                Clive was still taken aback. A tinge of guilt picked at him as he realized how easily Virginia was taking this in. "Virginia," he said disbelievingly. "There is…no reason for you to stay. I am more than capable of resolving this mission alone, if you wish to progress…"

                Her face seemed to fall ever so slightly. "Alone?" she recurred his suggestion. "I can't let you go all by yourself, Clive! It could be much more dangerous than it was before!"

                Her reasoning planted an uncertain device in his mind. "I have been in complicated situations before. If need be, I will use the Teleport Orb to immediately transport myself to your location once I find Kaitlyn."

                Virginia frowned, knowing full well that she couldn't argue with him and win. After all, the Teleport Orb was under his charge (he _was _the one to solve the puzzles, after all) and if he chose to use it according to his wishes, she could only let him. What worried her, however, was that the Orb only worked once or twice every three months. Of course, she hadn't known Clive had recharged it already.

                Another unnerving fact about the Teleport Orb? It worked only when the user was in mortal danger.

                It was not quite the same item that Rokyman used, which had been their initial thought. However, it hadn't taken them very long at all to discover that the Orb wouldn't operate unless they were in the midst of a battle, or ambushed or threatened by some unseeing force. Discouraging as it was, Clive had insisted that the Orb would be a very beneficial item to keep despite its impossible weight compared to its size.

                "Let him go."

                This time, Jet spoke. He rose from the couch, completely untainted by the fading traces of sleep, which led Virginia to worry just how long he had been listening. The silver-haired youth glanced at her, as if to prove her theory.

                "You should let him," he said again, with very little enthusiasm. "I'd rather not go back there for as long as I'm sane."

                Virginia jolted inwardly. "Jet, how can you be so uncaring!? This isn't just some bounty-hunting mission!"

                "I just said," he defended. "Count me out."

                There was no argument about it. The uncouth Drifter turned around, regardless of  Virginia shouting after him, and stalked towards the door. He disappeared into the street before anyone could  object any further.

                "Ah, let him be," suggested Gallows. "Let him blow off a little steam. So, Clive-"

                "I know!" Virginia's exclaimation completely cut him off. "Since I can't go, and Jet...well, he's being Jet...why don't you do with him, Gallows?"

                There was a definite hesitation. The look on Gallows' face clearly explained exactly how he felt about her idea, but he was obviously stuck in decision. Finally, Clive spoke for him.

                "If it is indeed dangerous," he began pointedly. "I would rather not endanger any of your lives unnecessarily."

                "No, no!" said Gallows, realizing his mistake in hesitating. "I'll go. Couldn't help but worry if it's safe, though, leaving her all alone with Jet and all."

                "Oh, don't worry," she said testily. "I'll be fine. I think you should worry about Jet once I'm through with him!"

                Gallows scratched the back of his neck and smiled wryly. "Uh, yeah...I meant that," he said skulkingly, but it was clear that he was thinking of something else. "Ow!" he added, after recieving a not-so-gentle cuff from their leader.

                "I still do not believe-" Clive began.

                "Clive!" came Virginia's blunt demand. "As your leader, I suggest you take Gallows offer to help, or I just might cave and come with you myself."

                The older Drifter relaxed slightly, unaware that Bell was cackling loudly in the background. There was nothing left to support his end of the argument, not if he wanted to risk more injury on Virginia or even Jet. With a grim expression, Clive adjusted his glasses and expressed his submission. "Well then, leader, I accept your proposition."

                "Good," she replied, not without some extent of relief. "But, I want you to promise me one thing before we split up."

                This invoked puzzlement in the older Drifter. He replied as casually as he felt was necessary. "What is it?'

                "If you or Gallows are in trouble, and I mean _any_ kind of trouble," she said, stressing her words. "You have to use the Orb before either of you get hurt! Do you promise?"

                Clive felt the built-up anxiety in his chest melt away. "That, I promise."

                "Yes, mother..." Gallows grumbled to himself.

                "Okay," said Virginia brightly. If she had heard Gallows' comment, she showed no signs of concern for it. "We'll split the cost for supplies in two. I'll go find Jet while you two get ready to explore the ruins!"

                "That sounds reasonable," said Clive. "Our supplies will differ from yours, depending on our destinations."

                There came another shuffling noise, which Bell had caused in rummaging through a drawer located in the decorative table by the door. With a faint expression, she hobbled towards the Drifter group with something pinched in her aged fingers.

                When she offered it to Clive silently, he accepted it only to find that the item was a note. Instantly, his memory of the previous day rushed back to him. This note was...?

                "Perhaps you should wait until you have time," said the old woman, gravely. "Although I have not read it, nor felt inclined to, I am still troubled by its contents."

                Clive, disgarding the negative thoughts that followed thereafter, placed the note in his coat pocket without a word. Instead, he nodded his thanks and did not think futher on the subject. After all, there would be plenty time to ponder the message his wife had left for him later on. Right now, there were many other things to attend to.

                Virginia and Gallows stared quietly at their comrade and said nothing, until Clive looked at them both and smiled. "We need our supplies," he pointed out in a surprisingly normal tone. "I should have a sufficient amount of gella to cover our cost, so you may keep our travelling money for emergencies."

                "Alright," came Virginia's soft reply. "Why don't we meet at the bridge when we're all done?"

                "Agreed!" said Gallows, his grin somehow brightening the dampened mood. "Alright, Clive, let's get hoppin'."

                The green-haired Drifter allowed his gaze to follow his comrade as he first saluted the old lady, and took his leave into the bustling streets. Virginia looked cheerful, at least, which encouraged him.

                Quietly, Clive turned about and followed Gallows through the door. Whether or not his instincts agreed with him, he had made a promise he was not sure he was going to keep.

                He only hoped he would.

                -------------------------------

                Kaitlyn grunted as she hauled herself onto the edge of the jagged block. This was the third time she had been through this puzzle today, and the energy it consumed was unbelievable.

                She closed her hand around a solid rock handhold and carefully pulled herself away from the ledge she had been standing on. Once she had climbed to the very peak of the formation, she sighed and leaned against the chair-like indent she had found herself in. With aching fingers, she uncapped her waterksin and downed the rest of its contents...which wasn't much.

                Three times she had been to either end of the room, trying to figure out what the mysterious puzzle lead to. Near the top of the room, above a series of red grates and switches, an orange crystal sat with an inscription she was currently deciphering. Acutally translating the language was the easy part. It was activating the next sequence at the opposite end of the room every time it revealed one sentence.

                She was nearly done, she told herself. So far the inscription had told her very little about the historic factory this ruin was used for. The actual words barely made sense at all, at least not to her knowledge.

                She tilted her head back and tried to recall the entire passage she had been memorizing over the course of two months.

                _...Back on the world, no light shines_

_                Past and through dawn, day breaks down_

_                I die then, no life is mine_

_                But give me mine, and I reach_

_                For the sky, for the ground_

_                For the West, East, North and South_

_                I am a Mother and Father_

_                Children I bear, thousands and none_

_                I never birth. Nurse I not._

_                Still, not, but moving..._

That was all she had discovered. Every time she climbed the grates and read the words, she would lock them away in her mind, and start all over again. It took days alone to make it to this point, and then move so much to work out the riddle. This was her fourth visit in sixty days. And she loathed returning home every time, for her Nan constantly nagged her about rules and safety.

                This is what she did now, she thought. She was old enough to know right from wrong. The ARM in her holster was not there for show, either. Two years was a long time to train herself how to operate a weapon.

                She shook her empty waterskin and sighed again. Until she reached the orange crystal and crossed the room again, she would have to go thirsty. She eyed the shadowy corner where she had left her pack, and her extra water supply. Yes, it would be at least another hour or so...

                Kaitlyn had chosen this ruin specifically. Her father had kept many books (which had been hidden away, but she found them) and almost all of them were about either ancient artifacts or ruins. The only bit of information she had received about 'Doomed to Obscurity' was it's old Elwen name and its location. She had decided to wing it from there.

                At the moment, she was located just below the orange-and-red grates. Of course, she had been up and down them so many times that she could easily guess where the creaks were and where a step would cause the old contraptions to shake. Now it was simply a matter of climbing them now, and presently she wished she could remain on the ground for the rest of her life.

                Giving herself a mental kick, she dragged herself to her feet and put her waterskin away. There was no sense in thinking about it. The only way she was going to get out of this ruin alive was through this puzzle and out the door. Then, maybe, she would ride home and...well, she decided it would be better not to think that far ahead.

                She had not even noticed the distant, shifting sounds.

                She glanced up once more, and stretched her arms high to reach the mesh of the lowest grate, her fingers just brushing the metal-

                A sudden uproar in the rock below caused her hands to slip and threw her dangerously off balance. Before she even realized that the wall to her left was caving in, she had toppled over the edge of her perch and plunged into the damp pit ahead.

                Kaitlyn screamed as she took the short drop, and then her mouth was agape in silent shock. Her wrist jammed sharply aganist the floor as she landed on it. She felt a sickening, searing pain, but the sound of the break was muted by the rumbling and clattering of the rocks overhead. Then she yelped again as one of those rocks slid down the steep incline and struck her shin. Instinctively, she curled her body into a ball and tried to huddle as close to the remaining wall as she could. The stones continued to rain about her.

                And she had thought it was all over when the sounds began to diminish. The spattering of debris had died down considerably after a while, and in a panic she tried to move away from the possible cascade.

                She had barely moved two inches from her previous spot when a chilling sound stopped her in her tracks.

                The rumbling growl deeped. It was replaced with a long, airy hiss and the scraping of claws against dirt. In three bounds, the massive creature that had caused the rockslide clung to the underside of the grate overhead. It appeared confused, as if it had been chasing a prey that had somehow eluded it. Its yellow eyes danced with its head as it jerked back and forth, a reptillian tongue darting back and forth from its mouth, tasting, smelling for its lost quarry...

                Kaitlyn swallowed dryly when it dawned on her. That 'quarry' was her.

                It was not a very large monster, in fact. She had never encountered its kind before, which did not comfort her in the least. Its head was slender, roughly the size of her own, with smooth, reptillian details and a large mouth. Its neck was also slender, attached to a body that was stout, scaly and spiked. It had no tail, but its claws were shaped to a fashion that made it seem like a shadow-crawler, who sprunng on their prey from above. All around, it was coloured a bright, brilliant red.

                Fighting against her instincts, Kaitlyn slowly, every so cautiously reached behind her back for the base of her ARM.

                Her fingers closed around air.

                She managed to stiffle her squeak of surprise, but a shock ran throughout her mind that nearly caused her pain. Where had it fallen out? When she fell? If so, how far away was it and was it retrievable? Wait, there was her knife...

                No, the dagger she normally kept for emergencies was in her pack. In her _pack_, on the other side of the room.

                Shaking silently, she stared up at the immobile creature. It was not moving, but its senses were obviously in full operation. And nowhere in sight could she find her ARM.

                Maybe if she stayed still? If she could hold out long enough, it just might move on in search for another form of prey. Only if she could outlast it...

                As if it had read her intentions, the monster's head snapped in her direction. It twisted _right around_ until it was staring directly at her. Murder was in its beady gaze.

                She acted out immediately. She could not fight, and with no idea where to begin hunting for her weapon, she would have to run. Kaitlyn leapt out of her shadowy hiding place and dashed towards the steep elevation that seperated the room in half.

                If she could climb it, perhaps leap over it, she could reach her pack...the knife was right on top...

                The creature was no fool at hunting. Perhaps by the stirring dust it was puzzled, however, for it leapt for the exact spot she had been crouching a moment ago. With no soft flesh under its claws it gathered its haunches and sprang again. This time, it aimed for the wall just ahead of her.

                Kaitlyn yelled in surprise and instinctively darted to her right and away from the monster's lashing teeth. The stout wall loomed just ahead of her. She leapt and seized the edge of the wall in both hands.

                There came a loud crunch behind her. She knew exactly what it meant, and for the first time she acted against her instincts. She released the edge of the wall and fell, landing roughly on her back. She saw a flash of red fly past, just above her head as the creature sailed over the wall.

                Her breaths came in short gasps. But she ignored the fact that her lungs would not work, pushing herself off the ground and stumbling to her feet again. Hide...she had to find a place to hide, at least

                Perhaps she got lucky, or maybe she had somehow (vaguely) known all about it, but she saw the place she needed almost immediately. There was a deep crack in the far wall, nearly twice her width and slightly more than half her height. It was a place too impossibly small for the creature to fit into, but it was almost perfectly shapred to fit her petite bulk.

                She scambled madly, knowing full well that in two bounds, the creature would be on her again. Ignoring all sounds behind her, she lunged for the dark crack and threw herself into its clammy depth. The walls scraped her bruised leg and jostled her wrist, but she didn't care. She wedged herself into the crack as far as she could possibly go.

                An instant later, a storm of gnashing teeth and claws struck the outside of the crevice. It reached into the darkness where its prey had vanished, but met to form of fleshy resistance. In a fury, it attacked the hole again, trying to snag, capture, scratch, anything...

                Kaitlyn watched the clawed arm madly grope at the entrance to the small tunnel. Although it barely reached the air one foot ahead of her, she could not help but choke on the fear caught in her throat.

                Finally, after what seemed to be a million years, the arm retracted itself from her safe haven. There was another flash of red at the opening, and then nothing could be seen.

                She remained rigid, struck with the horror of the entire event for another full minute. When at last she was convinced that it could not reach her, even if it did choose to return, she relaxed and bent her head forward.

                She screamed for a third time that day when the mouth of the crack was suddenly pierced with the creature's head. Its long neck and lithe head shot forward, snapping the air just around her neck and shoulders. With a frightened gasp, she threw herself back again and pinned herself away from the bloodlusting inscissors.

                It snapped for a few lingering moments and, with a frustrated, ear-splitting bellow, retreated once more. This time, it lingered at the entrance to the crack and stared at her coldly. Its golden eyes were no longer burning with hunger, but anger and resentment. Things that no creature should express when faced with a  failed hunt.

                 And instead of disappearing again, the monster backed away a few, shaky steps and sat upon its haunches, staring. Then it proceeded to preen its scales, every so often making sure that it lifted its infuriated gaze to her.

                Eventually, the fear overwhelmed her to a point where she could no longer stand. Kaitlyn clenched her fists tight and collapsed on the narrow floor of the crevice. Her entire body began to tremble with the sobs that now forced their way out of her parched throat.

                She just wanted to go home. She didn't _care_ about the message encoded on the orange crystal anymore! If she could only get out of this crack, away from the dragon-monster, out of the ruins and back _home_...she was too scared to do anything anymore. She should never had left home in the first place...

                And she desperately wanted her mother. More than anything else in the world, she just wanted to hear her mother say "It's all right, Kaitlyn. Mommy will fix that for you..."

                But there was  _no_ _one_ here to fix anything! The only reason she was here was to find out why...

                It was that way that she thought for the next hour. She knew the creature had not left at all. In fact, in a full sixty minutes it had not even bothered to move. It continued to sit and stare occasionally, simply waiting and offering her the option of a quick death over a longer and painful period of starvation.

                She didn't want to conider it. No, there had to be some way to escape. There might even be a chance that the creature would get bored and walk away. Then she could find her ARM, and leave...

                Another hour wore on. She could not help but feel the fatigue wear on her mind. But she wanted so badly to stay awake, to wait for the creature to fall asleep perhaps, and make her move...

                _Mommy_...Her thoughts invoked yet more tears. Her childhood memories of her mother were like fresh wounds, neverending, never healing...if only she had done something to stop her, to prevent her from leaving?

                After another minute or so, Kaitlyn closed her eyes and did not bother to open them again. She cried to herself over and over again, wishing for her mother, among other things. Then, as her thoughts slowly began to subside into slumber, another word feebly entered her mind.

                _Daddy..._

Then Kaitlyn slept, and dreampt of Clive Winslett.

                -----------------------------

                **Ah, well. The length of my chapters will differ from here, depending on my mood. shrugs**

**                Anyway, yeah...short replies. Thank ya, Teefa, and I appreciate your...er, empathy. Black Walkz 0, LUV your fanficcy, and thanks! I'm glad I bought you. Cough. Anyway...yay, Hana! Thank you too, as your insight is very welcome! And your praise! And Wolfsbane, yes, I thought there might not be a chapter unless Bell dragged the story on. Kinda sounds like another Bell we know (winces at her own lame pun) Whew...anyway, again. Next chapter come soon, I promises.**


	4. Outset

**_Knock On Wood_**

**__**

--

**Author's Notes getting shorter, yes. Personal characters being stupid. Novel's writer's block. Having not much to say. Here be next chapter.**

**Klox: **Whoa, did she just insult us?****

**Aughus: **Well we _are_ giving her a hard time. At least, _you_ are. I'm not even part of the story yet!****

**Yachi: **……...ingrates.****

**----------------------**

**                Chapter Four: Outset**

"Hey, Clive!"

                Gallows reined in his horse, squinting his eyes at the shimmering image of the ruins that loomed before them. The sun beat down like an entertaining eye, completely baking the two Drifters that currently scoured the site of their destination. So far, their search for a point of impregnation was a failure.

                Clive had set about examining the hieroglyphics etched on the stone surface of the temple. At first, they had seemed like an obvious clue to the key they needed for entry, but since they had faded over time, he was barely able to make out more than a few words -- none of which helped him solve his problem. When he heard Gallow's voice over the deadly stillness of the air, he looked up from his study and waved his response. Yelling would simply make his throat worse than it already was.

                "Over here, I think you should see this!" Gallows had no trouble with his voice. He had been raised in a village where this constant state of dryness and dehydration was common.

                The red-clad Drifter nudged his mount into a swift canter, stirring up a cloud as he crossed the dusty terrain. When he slowed again, he took immediate notice of the grave expression on his comrade's face.

                "Have you found an entrance?" Clive wanted to know. Just to make sure, he rescanned the exterior of the ruins with a glance, giving clarity to his anxious reasons.

                "Well, no," Gallows admitted. "I don't know how to say this, but uh…look over there."

                Clive's gaze followed the direction where the Baskar gestured. Sure enough, there lay a set of indents in the sand near the base of the temple that roughly resembled a horse's tracks. They were old and blurred by the moving sands, but there was no mistaking them for what they were. He traced their path until the disappeared around the far corner of the ruins.

                "They appear to be only a few days old," commented older Drifter, thoughtfully adjusting his glasses. "Assuming Bell's information is accurate, they may belong to Kaitlyn."

                There was a pause between companions that no amount of understanding could prevent. After a few moments, Gallows made a solemn face. "You want me to go first? You know, we could find pretty much anything…"

                "Thank you, Gallows," said Clive, understanding his level of caution. "But it is better for me to assume the lead now. I could not imagine…"

                "Yeah," said the Baskar. "You're right. So, Mr. Leader, lead on!"

                Their mounts traipsed across the terrain, nearing the opposite end of the temple. With every covered inch, Clive's heart seemed to beat faster and faster. He had meant to say that he could not imagine what he would do if he found that something terrible had happened to Kaitlyn. There was nothing less than truth in this either, for he honestly did not know. He gave no consideration to it, but hope and fear was no merciful to him as they rounded the corner of the primeval building.

                The tracks stopped altogether when the rear of the temple came into view. The sight that greeted them was panicking and lightening at the same time.

                An unfamiliar steed was tacked to base of a withered, stringy bush nearby. It still bore its packs filled with traveling supplies, which including several water skins, food containers, and various ammo clips that hung from the saddle straps, some empty and others full. Clive did not need a second glance at the cased bullets to recognize what kind of gun they belonged to.

                Gallows glanced uneasily at Clive's horse as they rode to a stop, as if the make sure it was still there. Aside from the colour of the strange horse's saddle and its design, both mounts have easily passed as the same animal. The other horse lifted its head as the neared it, whickering a weary greeting before returning its business to the dried, scattered fodder that lined the ground.

                "Okay," said Gallows, when neither of them had an immediate response. "This is officially weird."

                "Actually," said Clive. In a sudden hurry, he dismounted from his chocolate-brown gelding and began to walk towards the unfamiliar horse. "We may have found exactly what we were looking for."

                "Say what?" Gallows was quick to follow suit, knowing full well that their horses were trained enough to remain in one place without wandering off. "Did I miss something?"

                "These bullets," said Clive, cautious in his approach to the strange mount. He ran a soothing hand along the steed's neck, assuring the gentle beast that he was not here to do harm. "They belong to an ARM I once used to train with -- the Seawolf ME14."

                Gallows' face distorted with surprise. "Then Kaitlyn's…?"

                "Still inside, it seems," came the hasty reply.  Clive's tone then changed considerably. "Gallows, please do not get me wrong. I must assume, after all that has transpired, that something horrific has happened to her."

                "Hey, don't worry about it, Clive!" said Gallows with a genuine cheerfulness to his voice. "Something tells me she's just fine and dandy, and that's a Baskar's priestly intuition. You can't mess with that."

                Clive smiled grimly, but there was a definite assurance to Gallows' claims that could not be ignored. "That is true," he said gratefully. "Even though five years have passed, I cannot help but picture her as the Kaitlyn I know. She is still too young to unfold her wings…she is vulnerable to the harsh elements against her."

                Gallows did not know how to respond. Instead of voicing his purpose, however, he merely nodded and fixed his eyes on the towering form of the temple ahead.

                "I believe she used that fissure to enter the ruins," said Clive, accepting Gallows' silent nod as a mutual understanding. The green-haired Drifter was looking directly at a caved-in section in the wall nearest to them. "The opening seems large enough to admit us both providing we remove our ARMs first and pass them through separately."

                "Good plan," said Gallows, relieved to have a change of subject. "I guess since I'm bigger, I go first."

                "That is the most reasonable course of action," Clive agreed. "Once inside, I suggest we split up and take separate paths. Doing so will significantly decrease our search area."

                This time, Gallows hesitated. Predicting Virginia's reaction to Clive's 'suggestion' was the easy part, but applying it to the situation was much more difficult. It sounded like the right thing to do, but was it also the safest?

                "I dunno, Clive," said Gallows. "Only one of us can have the Teleport Orb at a time. Say one of us gets into trouble and can't get out?"

                "That is why," said Clive, "you will take the Orb, and I shall contact you through the Guardians should the need arise."

                Gallows remained unsure and scratched the back of his neck to express that uncertainty. "Sounds risky," he said sullenly. "This place is like a labyrinth. Trying to find each other inside is like staying awake for one of Granny's lectures."

                "We cannot risk the time to formulate another plan," Clive insisted. "This may be our only option!"

                The Baskar looked skeptical, but he finally caved. "Alright," he said cautiously. "It goes way against my instincts, but I'm game." He proceeded to unfasten his Modified Coyote M17F from the strap around his waist and handed it over to Clive. "Careful, still loaded," he said as an afterthought.

                As the priestly Baskar approached the narrow crevice, Clive titled his face to the peak of the large temple. Just how far within the ruins had Kaitlyn gone? Why would she leave her surplus rounds with her mount? Had someone, perhaps, kidnapped her?

                His grip tightened around the barrel of Gallows' ARM. There were worse things, he decided. He tried not to think of them, but he knew there were a great number of things young females were unsuspecting to in this mummified world

                No, his invoked Guardians did nothing to tell him of an evil intent here. They did, however, suddenly detect a streak of fear and misery from deep within the walls of the temple. Immediately, Clive's eyes snapped open as the barest flicker of a familiar voice reached the depth of his heart. His mediums rang out with alarm.

                _Kaitlyn!_

                --------------

                Unaccustomed to the cold and hardly dressed appropriately for its stinging bite, Kaitlyn huddled in her little nook and shivered. From somewhere, possibly an unseen vent or adjoining fissure, a very unwelcome draft of cool air pelted her from behind. It was much to dark to see the exact location of the vent, and the hole was much too narrow to turn around. She tried to think of better things as she waited the monster out.

                Was it day? Was it night? She wasn't sure, she realized. She had been cramped up in the same position for a long time, she supposed. She had fallen asleep and woken up twice, fighting back her hunger pains and the terrible ache in her dehydrated throat every time consciousness came over her.

                The dragon-creature had moved as well. Once or twice, it had actually picked itself and moved off to one side of the room. She hadn't moved, hearing its rattling breath and a few simultaneous growls as it communicated with another of its kind – its mate, perhaps. Minutes later it would return with traces of another animal's blood on its scaly lips.

                The hunter was being fed, but the prey starved on. Kaitlyn could not dismiss the grief she felt when  the fact dawned upon her that she would not likely leave this place alive.

                _I had come so far..._Her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions. _I almost had the entire inscription! I could have found the treasure, I could have had the gella to become a real Drifter..._

That was no longer possible. Unless she crawled out of the crack and allowed the impatient monster to take her life, she would slowly waste away in this little, horizontal grave.

                But that was not something she would do, especially not when the dragon expected it. Whether it was being unnaturally kind by giving her a choice of deaths or not, she didn't care. She would not give it the satisfaction.

                Kaitlyn uttered a slightly surprised whimper of pain as she tired to shift her legs. Her knee had been jammed against the corner of some loose brick and it pained her horribly. She was sure it had started to bleed, but it had become raw and scabbed over a certain period of time. How long she had been like this, however, she had no idea.

                Her wrist had stopped throbbing many hours ago. The aching was evident, but unless she tried to move her arm, she almost forgot about the sprain. As for her shin, the bruise had swollen up and stung with ferocity that not even she could ignore.

                She wondered what dying would be like. Would it happen gradually, like a heavy fatigue that simply wore on and made you sleep? Or would it be like a bullet, quick and sudden where she would have no warning, no chance to say her final prayers?

                Vaguely, she wondered about her horse. She had left it tied up just outside the ruins, and now there would be no one to set her free. Subconsciously, she hoped that the brave mare would somehow break free and find her way home...or at least find a new owner that would take care of her.

                Kaitlyn closed her eyes, focusing on the almost melodic sounds of the abandoned ruined. There was an occasional grunt or growl, the sound of trickling water (which meant the creature had an source of refreshment as well) and the snuffling of the dragon's breath. In reality it lay quietly staring at her from only four yards away, but when she could not see it, it sounded as if it were sleeping just beside her.

                When the monster was not trying to kill her, he seemed almost peaceful. His beady, golden eyes were just as sharp and cunning as before, yet they had dull from one extent to another. It merely glared with boredom at the present, obviously not enjoying the task of babysitting a doomed, human child.

                Kaitlyn buried her face in her uninjured arm. Why would the dragon not go away? Surely, it could have found some larger, more satisfying meal by now. Perhaps it was not generously allowing her the option of a short and nearly painless death, but cruelly waiting for her to shrivel up and die? Even without the spoils of the hunt, it would see her die from sheer, murderous spite!

                Or...perhaps there was more? The creature could be protecting its territory, after all. Until this unusual and unwelcome threat was gone for sure, it would most likely not abandon its guard.

                Unless there was another reason it wanted her to die. Duty, maybe? And order? It surely did not look as if it wanted to be there, and just maybe it regretted doing this as well. She had heard the snarling arguments it had with its mate whenever it brought food to share. At first, shed assumed the fights were over the kill, in savage and brutal decision over who got the choicest morsel. Now she was not so sure.

                Then again, it was a ridiculous notion. She felt better assuming that she was going to die as prey, not as a nuisance pitied by her killer.

                The thirteen-year-old girl waited for some time, taking no comfort in the sounds that continuously played in her ears. They were beginning to wear on her, like an endless mental torture.

                Drip, drip, drip. Growl. Drip. A shuffling sound. Drip. Drip.

                Suddenly, her mind buckled. A very piercing and unexpected noise completely jolted her out of her state of misery. It was a long, drawn out sound with a certain pitch and human quality.

                Someone was whistling.

                At first, she thought she had been imagining things. The whistling faded from her concentration, as she could not longer hear it. Then had it been her imagination? Was it just another unexplained sound?

                No, there it was again. This time, she knew it was not a figment of her thoughts, but the real thing. Whoever was whistling was carrying a tune so familiar to her senses that she wanted to scream out in joy and surprise at the same time. The song that strung together by the uplifting and falling notes was a song she had heard many times in her childhood.

                There were no lyrics sung now, but the words automatically filled her head.

                _Down to where the river flows,_

_                To where no man or creature goes,_

_                Say hey again, sing high, sing low…_

A Drifter…? Kaitlyn wearily lifted her head, opening her mouth in a weak attempt to make her voice work. Nothing would pass through her dry, sticky throat an airy hissing sound.

                The creature outside the crevice had also heard the piercing tune on the air. It stood poised and silent, as if it were listening intently with its invisible, however apparently accurate ears. It did not move nor flinch, waiting for its unseen foe to appear.

                The whistling grew louder. Considering how its melody bounced off the walls of the hollow corridors and never seemed to stop echoing, Kaitlyn was unable to tell which direction it was emanating from.

                She tried to wet her throat and barely succeeded. However, this time when she spoke, she managed to croak, "H…help…"

                It was pathetic. She doubted even the dragon monster had heard her plea for aid, let alone the human bounty hunter she was trying to communicate with. Kaitlyn coughed purposely, forcing her throat to clear enough to work out a yell at an appropriate level.

                "H-Help me…please, help! I'm…I'm over here! This way! Please!"

                At once, the whistling ceased. Kaitlyn's heart surged hopefully, but she feared strongly that the Drifter had simply chosen this time to stop playing his tune.

                Then, as she began to assume the worst, a voice answered her entreaty. "Kaitlyn? That you?"

                Kaitlyn hastily subdued the bewilderment that besieged her thoughts. So, had her Nan sent out a hired hand to search for her already? As much as it bothered her to be thought of as a child, she silently prayed and thanked the old woman over a thousand times. She was going to be rescued…

                But that voice…it sounded so familiar…

                "Y-Yes, it's me!" she cried out, wincing involuntarily when her parched throat roared with pain. "Over here! In the…in the puzzle room!"

                "Hey, all right!" the voice cheered back, triumphantly. "I'm comin', squirt!"

                Every nerve in Kaitlyn's body froze. _Squirt_? The only one that ever called her 'squirt' was…

                A loud shot interrupted her thoughts. Almost as quickly as she came to her senses, the creature outside of her crevice leapt into the air, yowling. She heard three, faint clicks of the dragon's claws attaching to the red grates before the sounds dispersed completely. For the first time in possibly days, Kaitlyn felt absolutely safe to emerge from her dark little hole.

                Whoever had fired their ARM now shuffled hurriedly across the room. The area just outside of the crevice was abruptly filled with an unidentifiable figure. A rough, but friendly voice reached her ears like a loud bell on a quiet day.

                "Thank the Guardians!" he boomed jovially. "Gimme a second, Kaitlyn, I'll get you outta there."

                She put up no resistance as the amazingly familiar Drifter reached through the dim crack and secured his hands under her shoulders. She gathered her aching legs beneath her and pushed off the ground finding herself lifted free of the tight little space she thought she never would have left.

                As soon as the big man placed her on the ground, she looked up. The face of Gallows Caradine grinned down at her, as if waiting for some violent explosion to take place.

                It did. Kaitlyn lunged at the towering Baskar and threw her arms around his middle. "U-Uncle Gallows…Uncle Gallows!

                Gallows could tell that she was crying -- most likely with relief and joy. Feeling his heart completely melt by her affection, he gently returned her hug. "Hey, half-pint!" he said cheerfully, using one of his many nicknames for her. "Aw, come on…you're makin' me blush!"

                Kaitlyn was rambling on, barely coherent with her torrent of words. "I just thought I'd never, never get out of there, and _you're_ here of all people! I'm just so, so relieved that you're okay and I'm okay, and I was so scared! You've been gone away so long, and Daddy never ever came back, and then Mommy left, and I wanted to look for her, but that horrible, horrible monster…!"

                "Easy, easy," said the Baskar as they broke their embrace. Despite her shockingly obvious increase in age, she was still a very small person for thirteen. He lifted her clear off the ground again, swung her about in a full circle with incredible ease, and set her down on the short wall dividing the room.

                "Uncle Gallows," she laughed heartily. "Cut it out, I'm too old for that!"

                "Not in my standards you're not," he said in return. "Wow," he added with genuine marvel. "You don't even look like the Katie I knew!"

                "I grew up, silly," she said with a permanent smile. Her elation was not dead yet, but some confusion mixed with her tone. "You…you never visited before…how come you came here? How did you know…?"

                "Whoa, slow down," said the Baskar priest. He reached for his water skin and offered it to here. "Here, squirt, nice and cold."

                Kaitlyn did not need to be told twice. With a sudden ferocity, she seized the water source from his outstretched hand, uncapped it and practically began inhaling its contents. She began to sputter when she realized that it was not just _cold_, but really, really, really _cold_.

                "Hey, what'd I just say?" said Gallows, tilting the end of the skin away from her face. "I didn't just rescue you so you could drown yourself."

                "Sorry," she said between coughs. She did not pause to catch her breath, however, but placed the water skin to her lips again and drank -- slower, but just as satisfying.

                When she was finished, she dabbed her lips on her dusty sleeve and handed the skin back to Gallows, who put it back in its proper place. Kaitlyn breathed deeply for a moment and then gazed up at him. "Uncle Gallows…how did you find me here? Is…is Daddy…"

                The Baskar dropped his expression for a moment, coming to a sudden realization. Clive was on the other side of the ruins by now, and he didn't have the Teleport Orb! Another thing that stupefied Gallows was the prospect that they had not even agreed on a time to regroup after they had either found Kaitlyn, or given up searching.

                "Is Daddy okay?" the girl almost whispered. Fear crept into her voice.

                Gallows jolted back into reality, blinking in surprise. "H-Huh? No, no, no…Clive is just fine! In fact, he's-"

                Kaitlyn bounded to her feet. "Daddy?" she exclaimed dazedly. "You know where he is? Oh, please, _please_ tell me Uncle Gallows! P-Please…I'll do anything to know where he is…"

                Gallows was taken aback by her regretless insistency. He fumbled for the right words to say, and ended up choosing bits and pieces of random explanations he'd rehearsed previously. "He's uh…well, you could say…uh, that he's here…"

                Kaitlyn's face paled. "Wh-Where is he?" she said, full of wonder and unimaginable delight.

                "He came looking for you," said Gallows, with a wide smile. "Trust me, squirt, you've never seen him this seriously worried."

                "He's looking for me?" she replied in return, as if she'd adapted to repeating everything he said. "He…he's worried about me, but…Uncle Gallows? Where were you…why did you…and Daddy…"

                Gallows had a pained expression on his face. "Kaitlyn, that's a bit tough for me to explain. But Clive never meant for you to be all alone! It kinda sounds strange, but none of us could help what happened…"

                "But, he…" Kaitlyn hunched her shoulders, feeling an overwhelming grief take over her actions. "Because Daddy never came back, Mommy…and everyone thought he…"

                Gallows never had a chance to reply. As soon as he opened his mouth to reply, a shock ran throughout his entire body as his mediums screamed to him in alarm. Something bad was happening.

                Kaitlyn watched her 'uncle' Gallows fall back in surprise, and dashed forward. "Uncle Gallows, what's wrong?"

                "Ouch…" Gallows mumbled, bring his head to his head. But concern flooded him for his friend. The mediums of Schturdark and Fengalon continued to trembled in anticipation. "Clive…he's in trouble."

                --------------

**I have an odd question. I have been reading over this story, and something about it doesn't seem to fit quite right…I don't know exactly what it is. Is it my writing style? Why can't I see the big flaw? IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS!!! **

**                Oi…well. Replies. First of all, for Teefa…um…connection? I dunno what you mean there. There's no direct connection between the Winsletts and the Maxwells that I know of…or IS THERE? (dramatic music plays) Anyway.  To Black Waltz…$19.95!?!?!?!?! I don't have that kind of money! You know how hard that is to scrape up in Canadian money? That's three hours of work for me! HA!  AHAHAHA!. Ahem. Yes, well…Hana, terribly sorry it pains you but you're gonna hafta get used to it. Why? It's an angst story. Expect much BW0-like angst later on. It's HER fault! (points accusingly at Black Waltz 0) Wolfsbane…yessss…my underling…we all loves to do evilssss…mweeheeheehee!**

**                Sigh.**


	5. Outcry

            **_Knock On Wood_**

**__**

**                Hmmm. Okay Black Waltz 0, I'll make you a deal. Whenever _you_ update Lust Jaw, I'll update Knock On Wood. Sound like a fair trade? shakes fist threateningly I'm still waiting for that update! I won't stop pressuring you until you update it! I want updates, or I shall scorn you and your characters for the rest of your life! scowls**

**Klox**: You done yet?

**Aughus: **Allow her to vent her anger. Actually, I am looking rather forward to that update myself.

**Klox: **Look, pal, who's side are you on?

**Aughus: **Yours, apparently. We are after all, figments of the same imagination.

**Klox: **.......

                -------------------------------

**                Chapter Five: Outcry**

Kaitlyn absently rubbed her recently healed wrist as she charged down the next corridor. Her Seawolf ME14 knocked against her back with every shaky stride she took, reminding her that she was no longer the weak, defenseless little girl she had been sheer minutes ago. She was armed and just about ready to do anything she could to help her Uncle Gallows. Especially when her father...

                Gallows had ordered her to return to fissure that marked their entrance to the ruins. She had, of course, completely and whole-hearted protested. When he took off through the main complex of the tunnels and passages, however, she had weighed her options consciously and decided to do the exact opposite of what he wished.

                Kaitlyn knew the layout of the ruins to no end. She had once tried to navigate with with her eyes closed and had done extraordinarily well until she was ambushed by a troupe of Ascomids. She knew the easiest way to travel from the west locale to the east. Gallows may reach her father, after all, but what if he didn't reach him in time?

                Her path was not well illuminated. She split the shadows, the hollow echo of her boots resounding in her ears as if they were the battle cries of a brewing storm. Despite her frequent use of these forgotten tunnels, they were poorly kept and thickened with cobwebs, dust and and a stagnant odour. She ignored them all with a mutual dislike to their presence.

                The corridor split into a cross-section just ahead of her. She knew that if she took a right, she would eventually end up back where she began. If she continued to run straight ahead, she would find herself outside the temple. The left passage, however, led her straight to the foyer of the ruins. If she could race there, perhaps she could take the normal route to the other end of the temple and hope that Gallows did not find her.

                She did not slow down as she banked around the corner. The hall was widening as she ran through, becoming brighter and easier to breathe in, summoning a sigh of relief. The cold, clammy corridors had begun to remind her of her unfortunate experience over the past few days. Never, she decided, would she be so careless to lose her ARM again. Or at least, she knew it would be safer to keep her dagger where she could reach it at all times.

                Finally, she came to the very end of the run. Without thinking about it twice, she ran her hand over the hidden switch that would open the wall and admit her into the main hall.

                She slipped through the rumbling door, glancing at her surroundings nervously. To her satisfaction, Gallows was nowhere in sight, which meant he had either already passed this way or he had not yet come. Either way, she had to move quickly.

                The rest of the corridors flew by. They were bright and airy, occasionally decorated by a stream of sunlight that leaked through the loose rocks. She was breathing heavily by now, but there was no mistaking the approaching sounds of infuriating growling and the very distinctive gunshots of the Gungir HAG 35.

                That was it! Her father..._Daddy_...was still alive...

                She burst through an empty doorway, emerging into a large room she had marked down in her notes for exploration in the future. It was a room she had very little knowledge of and hardly interested her because of its vacancy.

                It was no longer vacant now. The first thing she saw made her insides turn cold, for at least a half a dozen of the dragon creatures (very identical to her previously unwanted enemy) prowled about the dusty floors. Two more clung to the walls near the ceiling, and four others lie motionless in random spots about the chamber with gunshots to their heads or chests.

                What she saw next seized her icy innards and gave them a painful yank. At the far corner of the room, a lean, green-haired Drifter aimed his ARM at yet another one of the monsters and fired. The beast squealed with pain and collapsed.

                An uncontrollable mixture of both rapture and distress washed over her. "_Daddy_!"

                Stunned by the sound of his daughter's voice, Clive whirled about in amazement. His expression was soon replaced by that of agony when one of the nearest dragons took advantage of his distraction and leapt – snarling – onto his back.

                Kaitlyn did not freeze to waste her valuable time. In a flurry of movements, she un-holstered her ARM and poised with it, locking her aim on the assaulting beast. A sharp crack filled the room as the older, less accurate weapon unleashed its magazine into the back of the dragon. It was knocked to one side by the force of the bullet, freeing the trapped man beneath its claws.

                The unexpected shot had taken the remaining dragons by surprise. The ones clinging to the walls leapt into the shadows while the other six scattered about the room, searching for their newfound enemy. In the pit of the confusion, Kaitlyn dashed forward and threw herself beside her fallen father.

                Clive had rolled over, gripping the bleeding bite wound he had received to her shoulder. When she neared him, his eyes shot open and seemed to be looking just past her head. "Kaitlyn, do not-"

                His warning came a moment too late. In a flash of red scales, the wounded reptile regained it composure and batted heavily at the unsuspecting girl's back. Kaitlyn stifled a scream as she was sent sprawling onto the ground.

                The dragon did not seem at all interested in her. Instead, it slunk ungracefully until it loomed above the injured Drifter, its jaws parted in vicious, throaty drone...the drone his most difficult prey usually heard before they were torn to mere ribbons.

                Another shot pierced the air. The dominant male dragon gurgled shortly, reared back its head in its final death throe and landed heavily on the floor.

                The seven remaining creatures hesitated. After witnessing the fall of their leader and kin-mate, none of them seemed to lust for the battle. A brief moment of indecision passed before they chose to flee. Some leapt into the shadows on the ceiling while the rest sped through the opposite end of the chamber.

                Gallows rushed to Kaitlyn first, replacing his still-smoking ARM in its holster. She had already begun struggling to sit up, whimpering quietly as her cracked rib complained about the reallocation.

Her 'uncle' helped her sit up, muttering something about how teenagers didn't listen to their elders before he prepared a healing Arcana to fix her rib.

                Clive stumbled to his feet, apparently unhindered by the gouge he'd received just minutes ago. Instead of tending to his own  wounds, he staggered towards the thirteen-year-old who stared just as diligently back at her father. Kaitlyn noticed that he limped because of an injury he had taken before she'd arrived.

                Before Gallows could finish his Arcana spell, she clambered to her feet and stumbled slightly. Then, with a grief-twisted face, she hurled herself at the green-haired Drifter and buried her face in his coat. She began pummeling him with her fist, crying and yelling at the same time. 

                "Why…?" she said through clenched teeth. "Why couldn't you come home? W-Why…didn't you just come back! I was…scared, 'cause you n-never…why couldn't you have told us!? Why!?"

                Clive didn't know whether to feel surprised or not. Gradually, she lowered her fist and allowed his arms to envelop her gently. She continued to shed tears, although her sobbing had somewhat subsided. "I am sorry, Kaitlyn," he managed to croak hoarsely. "I would never wish to leave you for so long…not for any reason. Never…"

                "Then why did you?" she wanted to know, her voice muffled by the red fabric of his coat. She did not care that her middle ached, or that blood seeped into her hair. "Why did you have to leave Mommy and me?"

                "There is no possible way to explain," he replied truthfully. "What matters to me is that you are safe. I would not be able to forgive myself had some harm come to you…"

                "I'm fine," she said, breathing a long, shaky sigh. She hugged him tightly, as if afraid he might disappear at any moment. "I missed you so much, Daddy…"

                What occurred in the shadows was silent. An undetermined force, perhaps something or 'someone' with no greater cause than blind misery, sulked in the unseen places. As she watched the scene unfold, she felt her small, withered heart simply scream with a bitter, selfish laughter. She had no physical mask, but the one she wore veiled whatever pitiless emotion she felt.

**_How sentimental…_**

All three of the 'pathetic' humans jolted at the hollowed tones of her voice. Cackling with her elegant yet raw and livid throat, the demon unlatched her claws from the stone wall and landed with a  feline grace on the ground.

Her scales shone the deepest crimson. Without the scarcest light, she was easily identifiable as black, and stunningly handsome. Compared to the rest of her kind, she was larger and more lithe. Her claws tipped almost human-like hands, her slender, reptilian face smoother than blood pearls and her eyes shining with the same hue as blood itself. And from the depths of her chest, it seemed, an impossibly choppy and uneven voice dwelled.

**_So you invade the parish of my kin, kill my friends…_** Her tongue snaked out and flashed daringly. **_When my helpless mate failed to kill the young rat, I should have drowned her with fire._**

Clive was the first to react. Instinctively placing himself between his daughter and the malevolent dragon, he reached for the small Meteor A-1 in the hidden holster located within his coat. True to his intelligent reputation, he did carry a back-up ARM for such cases when he found himself unarmed.

"What the-" Gallows stepped forward bravely. His hand went to the handle of his Coyote. "Okay, how'd that just happen?"

**_You, mentally inadequate one, _**said the creature, showing her incisors, **_would do best to be silent. We have already chosen to spare _you_, however…_**

Clive tensed, ready to draw the pistol at any time. "We had no notion that you are a sentient specie. Instead of enlarging the casualties, why not allow us to leave in peace? We mean you no harm as long as we are not threatened."

**_Yes, I know you are strong. _**The dragon drew back her lips in a vicious snarl. **_But then you are weak. Were my kind not so few in numbers, you would have served as our lunch many hours ago._**

Kaitlyn was trembling, for once not feeling at all inclined to draw her weapon and stand bravely. With her father here, everything seemed much different. Now she could go home, and they could talk about everything, anything they wished to say to each other that she had believed she would never say again. Trembling, she clung to Clive's coat and glared tactlessly at the dragon.

**_I have come simply to say, _**said the creature, blinking her scarlet eyes with a restrained fury. **_You cannot escape her even if you try. Now that she is our ally, your pathetic, human existence will cease to be. Our world…will begin._**

In no less than a second, her violet-red scales shimmered. Then, she vanished. With no trace or evidence that she had ever been, the creature disappeared into thin air. There was not even a sound to be heard of her exit.

The trio stood poised, not entirely ready to give up on their collective suspicion. When at last, the two Drifters relaxed their grips on their ARMs, Gallows made a bellowing sigh and scratched the back of his neck. "Well that was extremely odd…"

"It appears we have made a formidable enemy," said Clive.

His elation in being reunited with his daughter still sung true, but there was also a deep concern for her safety. As much as he would have liked to believe that it was over, there was much to be done about this new situation…on top of their criminal setting with the Arc.

"I didn't mean that," said Gallows, warily. "Didn't you feel what the Guardians were feeling?"

Clive looked at him, aware that Kaitlyn was now looking at them both with plain confusion. "I felt nothing."

"Exactly," said the Baskar. "There was nothin' there, like she was some kinda ghost or astral presence…"

Clive thought for a moment, and adjusted his glasses. "A hologram, perhaps?"

His comrade made a disbelieving face. "A race of scaly reptiles with that technology? Kinda farfetched, isn't it?"

"However, she spoke of an ally," Clive suggested. "There is a chance that these creatures are receiving some outside influence by a much stronger entity."

Gallows frowned. "Good point. Should we tell our fearless leader?"

Kaitlyn seemed to snap out of her stupor. Clinging to her father's hand, she smiled and cheered, "You mean Aunt Virginia? Are we going to see her, too?"

Clive understood why she would be so unfazed by the recent events. After all, he knew very little about the experiences she had endured while traveling alone. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "We will," he said reassuringly. "I am sure she will be happiest once we all arrive safely in Boot Hill."

The Baskar lifted her arms in a questionable manner. "Boot Hill? What about…you know…Humphrey's Peak?"

Clive looked solemn, and he shook his head gently. "Until we have decided on our next actions, it is safest to have Kaitlyn with us. I do not wish…to leave her again."

"Alright," Gallows brow furled slightly, but he did not argue. "Just wanted to be sure. Although I guess I kinda see your point about Virginia…"

"At the moment, it is best we  take our leave before our opponents recover from their wounds." The green-haired Drifter released his daughter's hand with a smile and moved to retrieve his Gungir HAG 35 from the ground. "To save on lost time, we will take the Teleport Orb once we reach an open location."

With Kaitlyn in close tow to her father, beaming as happily as she could possibly be without laughing for joy, the small band of Drifters left the chamber. The stench of blood, the putrid bodies, the red-streaked floors and faint memories of gunshots taken were all left behind.

Something stirred in the lightless corner. It was not very larger, nor did it bear an evil intent towards anything else. It was brand new, living and huddling close to the body of its dead mother. Mewling inquisitively, the creature nibbled gently at his dam's cold, still muzzle.

When she did not awake, he mewled again. Then, without a second glance to the massacre that head taken place, he dashed across the room in leaps and bounds, drawing close to the doorway the tall, gangly strangers had left through. The one that smelled like his mother was going away, and that made him unhappy. He grunted pitiably, and in a flash of pinkish scales, vanished through the arch.

----------------

**Short, I know. And to the point. Man, this angst and storyline developing is making me hungry. I need a sardine sandwich…mmmmm…**

**Klox: **That's disgusting…

**Aughus: **And your opinion counts? You're a robot, remember.

**Klox: **Do I give one smidgen bit of what you think?

**Aughus: **What I think, you think. In any case, I shall reply to the reviews, since Yachi is so engrossed in her sandwhich.

**Yachi: **….mmmffh foo…mouth is full

**Aughus: **Let's see…who is this? Ah, of course, Teefa85. Your comment about the connection between Maxwells and Winsletts is duly noted, madam. On the whole, the instance is rather interesting, for you see, the actual concept of a father/daughter relationship is not as secure…

**Everyone Else: **……………………..

**Aughus: **…of course, we could focus on the relation as a series of co-existing events……

**Everyone Else: **…..ZZZZzzzzzz……


	6. Outcast

            **_Knock On Wood_**

**__**

**                Eheh...yeah. scratches the back of her neck thoughtfully Yay! A review from Skylark! Er...uh...yay. I'm out of interesting things to say. As always, by bitterly mulched replies are posted at the bottom.**

**Klox: **And how.

                -------------------

                **Chapter Six: Outcast**

The wind tore at the shutters of a window, causing it to clatter in a fine-tuned symphony of the recklessly abandoned village. Dust swirled around the road, clouding and dispersing on the faded, white walls of the surrounding houses, while no voices, no sounds or even familiar smells greeted the senses of the returning Drifters.

                Virginia led her mount into a slow walk. Her gaze did not linger for long in one spot as she busily scanned the terrain of her former hometown. The wind howled through the stovepipes on the rooftops, adding the occasional effect to the banging shutters and filthy atmosphere. She didn't speak for a long time, but instead sat astride her white mare and stared in melancholy disbelief.

                Jet rode in silence beside her. He glanced at her from time to time, as if to make sure she hadn't fallen off her horse, but chose to keep his sarcastic comments to himself.

                Not that he had anything to say. He was almost as shocked and dismayed as she, which confused him ever more. That confusion led his mind astray, to a particular moment a long time ago, but in a hurried state of self-discipline he dismissed those thoughts and clenched his teeth shut.

                All signs of life had been erased from the exterior of the town. There were no footprints, trampled grass orlaundry hung out to dry, let alone a resident following out his daily business. While the air was warm and dry, there was no aroma of brewing dinners that normally wafted the settlement at this time of day. It was all barren, vacant, quiet and filthy.

                Their horse's hooves left hollows sounds on the packed dirt, ceasing when they were drawn to a gradual halt. Virginia inhaled sharply before dismounting her mare, quietly tucking the reins behind the left stirrup to both prevent her horse running away at a full gallop should she spook, and for easy access when she needed them again. Jet followed suit, although his actions were noticeably lacking the remorseful insight that she bore.

                "I...don't understand," she said, walking stiffly towards the dried out well in the midst of the town. "Why would everyone leave...where would they go? What happened here!?"

                Jet's eyes widened with her loud outcry. He seemed to freeze in one spot, his nerves completely overshot and numb. He didn't know why, or even how this feeling existed within him, but it felt horrible...like he wanted to help her, but a much more powerful and annoying force kept him still.

                Virginia collapsed on the crumbling well wall, not feeling at all well enough to cry or show her feelings. Instead, she shook her head and folded her trembling arms across her stomach. "Uncle Tesla, Aunt Shalte, everyone...how did this happen?"

                "Hey, Vir-" Jet cut himself short, and sighed. "Ginny, shouldn't we at least check the place out? I dunno, maybe someone stayed behind, or..." His voice trailed away. Great, now he felt like an idiot. "Never mind."

                She lifted her head to look at him, cautiously, if not with a certain amount of curiousity. "Jet?" she wondered allowed.

                "What?" he snapped back, perhaps a little too harshly.

                She didn't mind. The harshness she was used to, but the optimistic, encouraging Jet that had peeked through his impassive exterior was an unusual (however welcome) side to him that made her feel...consoled? Comforted? Solaced?

                "Um..." Taking a shaky breath, she shook her head. "Nothing, I'm sorry. You're right...let's look around a bit and see what we find."

                He shrugged. "Whatever," he almost muttered. "I'll take over there," he added, gesturing towards the houses near the southern end of the settlement..

                Virginia composed herself, drawing her strength from a foreign reserve somewhere in the most coveted place in her heart. "Okay, I'll look around the entrance. If we find anyone...anything...we'll meet back here at the well. Does that sound good?"

                "Whatever..."

                Obviously that was the best response she was going to get from him, but it did reassure her that he was in agreement and wouldn't slack off the job. She nodded firmly before standing up and setting a unbreakable pace towards the front of the vacant town. No matter how unnerving, jittery, or indecent it seemed to be prying into the depths of his shrouded mind, it was necessary. It was necessary, because...

                She stopped short, shaking her head free of those nagging thoughts. This was her hometown! She had to search for stragglers, survivors, and a single resident, anything...now was not the time to be wallowing in feelings she didn't even understand.

                There was nothing outside of the houses. Nothing could be seen around the buildings, in the cellars, beneath the rock foundations or in the sheds. When she had fully scoured everywhere but _inside_ of the buildings, she found herself lingering just in front of the door that belonged to Jeff, her long-time and separated friend. All she had to do now was open that door and face whatever lay inside.

                She knew very well what she was expecting. What she expected in her heart was the worst possible scenario...perhaps bones, perhaps dried blood or bullets embedded in the walls and furniture. Just like the horror novels she read when she was little...when the lonely traveler returned home one evening to find their family murdered and their village burnt to the ground...

                But her village was _not_ burnt. And she was _not _the lonely traveler in those stories. For one, she was not alone...she had Jet, Gallows and Clive. They were her teammates and her friends. And secondly, she was not just a fictional character bound in the papery world of a novel. She was a _Drifter_, and she would fold her wings tightly to her body and bravely step forward into the worst of all situations.

                Gently, her hand closed around the handle to the door. She turned it, both relieved and dismayed to find that it was not locked. With one fell motion, she swung the door open and stepped inside.

                There were no bullets. No blood, no bodies or bones. No signs of a struggle or any evidence that the residents had been removed forcibly. There was nothing that even suggested that they had lived here at all. Everything was gone – the pictures on the walls, the flowers in the vases, the vases themselves, the books, the blankets and couch covers and all forms of ornamentation. There was no note, no clue that she could see that would have given her an idea as to where they went.

                Slowly, she advanced a few steps. When nothing happened, she strode across the room and peered into the adjoining bedroom at the far end. Simply nothing, except for the mattress on the bed and empty shelves. Dust covered everything in thick layers. Her feet left trails in the filth on the floor, stirring up clouds of it that itched her nose. It was warm, dry and stagnant. No one had lived here for years, it seemed.

                Virginia retraced her steps towards the door again and emerged into the warm sunlight. There had been no true horror to her overly active imagination, but the results still invoked trouble in her mind. If no one remained behind, and everything was gone...had something happened to drive them away?

                She held her sleeve to her forehead, wiping away some of the perspiration that had gathered there. As she neared the entrance to the town, she turned around and gazed with solemn anticipation at what remained of her hometown. There was nothing left, nothing that she could relate to her old home, at least. She wondered what Jet had found, if he'd found anything at all...

                She stifled a scream when someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Automatically, she grasped the handles to her ARMs and spun about to face her opponent...

                ...and exhaled her relief. She released her weapons and lowered her arms to her sides. "Clive...you scared me half to death!" she scolded angrily, although it was clear she was happy to see him.

                The green-haired sniper half-grinned his apology, reaching behind his head to scratch his neck. "Ah, please forgive me for startling you. Is everything all right? I saw you standing here from a distance and assumed you were in danger."

                "No, it's fine..." Virginia lowered her voice suddenly, as if she had just remembered that _nothing _was 'fine'. "Everything...is just fine."

                Clive didn't feel obligated to believe her, knowing full well what that expression she wore and her posture meant. "Where is Jet?" he asked suddenly.

                Virginia lifted her head, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. "Oh, Jet...he's-" She stopped herself as she realized something important. If Clive was here, and it had only been minutes since she had arrived herself, then he must have used the Teleport Orb. Which meant..."Gallows! Clive...you...where's-"

                "Aunt Virginia!"

                Virginia was hardly able to move before a storm hit her dead on. Suddenly, there was a widely grinning, clinging, happy thirteen-year-old squeezing the life out of her lungs. Virginia gasped in surprise and tried to lift her arms to return the hug, but she found they were pinned tightly to her sides.

                When Kaitlyn pulled away, she was completely aglow. And boy, had she changed since the last time anyone had seen her.

                What Virginia saw was not the cutely dressed, well-behaved eight-year-old girl she'd been acquainted with before. Instead, there stood a very young lady with her golden-brown locks tied back in the fashion of a ponytail. Her blue ribbons were there, but they were strung so that they interwove with her hair. She did not wear a dress, but a baggy, red-and-brown outfit. Over her shoulders was draped a short, tan jacket with red trimming and tassels at the belted cuffs. She wore a white blouse beneath the jacket with a much lighter, tight-fitting maroon garment beneath that. There was a strap over her front, which wrapped around so that her holster for her ARM was attached to the back. Her pants were nothing but simple, brown breeches littered with a belt that held her extra ammunition. There were six straps on each of her boots, buckled in a criss-cross fashion until the leather encasing stopped below her knees. Her skin was not as bronze as one would expect, however, but nearly as pale as her fathers'. Apparently, Clive's inability to burn or tan was genetic.

                Virginia remained at a loss for words, but Gallows was quick to steal her chance at responding. He appeared at the gate, waving a greeting and hollered, "She's a grown-up lady now, full of spunk and ready for action!" Immediately, he caught Clive's apprehensive glare and flinched. "I mean…uh, she sure got big, didn't she?"

                Virginia blinked and smiled, despite her current worries. "Kaitlyn…?" she said with a short laugh. "Is that really you? You look so much…well…"

                "Older?" the teenager offered. "So do you! I think I see gray hairs, right about…there." She demonstrated with her index finger, pointing to a spot above Virginia's brow.

                "Kaitlyn," Clive warned with an amused tone.

                 Gallows was now grinning like a madman and jumped at his chance to make a comment. "Clive has some too, Katie," he said mischievously, messing up the sniper's hair with one his large hands. "Hey Clive, why didn't you tell us you were getting so old?"

                Clive's face flushed, either with temper or embarrassment, or both. "You are nearly the age I was five years ago," he pointed out, calmly flattening his hair again. Then his voice gained a seriousness that quelled the light-hearted feeling of the reunion. "I am more concerned about the condition of our surroundings. It's strange to see an unoccupied town, especially when water reserves are almost nonexistent outside settlements."

                A pang of discomfort shot through Virginia's chest. Her joyful bearing faded in a near instant, replaced with a solemn uncertainty. "I don't know what happened," she said truthfully. "I've looked and looked…but no one's left. They took everything, too…"

                "They packed up and moved away?" questioned Gallows. "That just doesn't seem right. You would think someone would run away from something they're afraid of. Either that, or the water supply is gone…"

                Virginia shook her head. "No…the well dried up, but Jet and I just drank from the reservoir a few hours ago. That was our emergency resource for water, the reservoir…but no one was there."

                "Where is Uncle Jet?" Kaitlyn wanted to know. Her pet name for Jet hadn't come easily, especially in Jet's case, but Clive's daughter was dead set on considering each one of them as an aunt or uncle.

                Gallows looked around, evidently noticing for the first time that Jet was gone. "I knew someone was missing…usually that guy's so quiet we never notice him."

                "Jet's searching the other end of town," Virginia explained quietly. "We split up to look for anyone who might have stayed behind…or a survivor…"

                "Should we go help him?" said Gallows.

                "It may be dangerous," Clive pointed out, looking straight at Kaitlyn as he spoke. "The cause of Boot Hill's desertion may linger here. Whether it is an unfriendly creature, thieves or noxious disease, we are all imperiled by staying here."

                "Clive's right," said Virginia. "After we find Jet, I think it's best we head back to Humphrey's Peak. After all, Bell will want to know if Kaitlyn's safe, and if Clive…"

                Clive noticed the reason why the female Drifter had left her sentence unfinished. He shook his head in response. "Thank you for being concerned," he said plainly. "However I do not wish to leave Kaitlyn so soon. Humphrey's Peak is no longer a safe haven from the Ark now that it governed by commercial means."

                Gallows face grew thoughtful, to everyone's mild surprise. The Baskar held his hands out at his side as he made his suggestion. "Why not leave her with Shane? Without Granny around, he'll need someone to nag at him."

                "Excuse me," said Kaitlyn, a little loudly but still with all proper politeness. "In case anyone was wondering, I'm still here. And I'm _not _letting Daddy go away again! Not until we find Mommy, and we all move back home and everything is the way it should be!"

                There was a difficult silence after that. For a long minute, everyone seemed to look at each other and avoid eye contact, no one approaching the young girl's vigorous, astonishingly hopeful claims.

                At last, Clive shattered the hushed cloud over their heads. "Kaitlyn, you are still very young to be a Drifter. I do not doubt your skills as one, but your wings are not completely grown in to take flight in the wastelands. Please understand…"

                Kaitlyn stood as rigid as a boulder, staring at her father as if he'd insulted her with every swear word created in the history of Filgaia. She had opened her jaw to say something, but she closed it quietly. Then she drew a sharp breath and looked away. "Are you saying that as my Daddy…or a Drifter?"

                Another awkward pause. Virginia spoke up next. "Kaitlyn, Clive doesn't mean you're a burden! I think he's-"

                "I don't care," said the girl, cutting her off. "I just don't! I'm going to find Uncle Jet! I don't need you to tell me I can't fight!" Before anyone could stop her, she took off towards the far end of town at an incredibly brisk speed.

                "Kaitlyn!" Clive called after her, stepping forward. His face was twisted with both guilt and (naturally) fatherly concern. Why had he said that at all? He knew very well what she was capable of, although he still worried…

                "Don't worry, Clive," said Gallows, scratching the back of his neck. "She's still the little Kaitlyn we knew, but she's got a mind of her own now. Trust me, it's not worth taking personally."

                "That's right," agreed Virginia, trying her best to be on the bright side of things. "Kaitlyn's a teenager now. In fact, she's really like me when I started out, when I thought everything could be sorted out with trust, and justice…"

                Clive looked down and subconsciously adjusted his glasses as they slid forward. "How will I manage to keep her safe? While with Catherine, the residents of Humphrey's Peak would watch over her during my absence. I am the only one remaining that can look after her."

                "What are you talking about?" said Gallows, slapping the sniper none too roughly on the back. "We're here to look after her, too! Or did you forget?"

                "Let's find Jet," said Virginia, abruptly changing the subject at hand. "We'll all talk to Kaitlyn after we've settled down and decided where we're heading next."

                "Of course," came Clive's response. "I am grateful, both of you. I somehow imagined that asking for help with Kaitlyn would be unsuitable…under the circumstances."

                "That's silly!" Virginia was quick to point out. "We know how much she means to you, Clive. What are friends for, anyway?"

                "Agh, I keep feeling that something's wrong," said Gallows. He was staring at the largest house at the far side of town, which had been previously occupied by Virginia's aunt and uncle. "C'mon, guys, let's find that sulky punk before he gets his pretty head shaved."

                Virginia raced after Gallows, checking behind her shoulder to make sure Clive was with them. The green-haired sniper ran alongside her with a fixed expression of concentration on his face. Whether he was worried about Kaitlyn, or he was simply preparing himself for a possible encounter with trouble, his mental state was as solid as the dragon fossils that constructed his ARM.

                Virginia's house loomed just before them. Automatically assumed to taking the lead, she leapt onto the porch just ahead of Gallows. She knew this was where the Guardian's fear was emanating from, for the feeling the Baskar had expressed moments ago was beginning to spread. Jet was inside her house, and something bad had happened to him to make the Guardians call out like that.

                "You know how it goes," she half-whispered to the two males behind her. "Should…anything happen, you have to rescue Jet first."

                Both Gallows and Clive nodded, accustomed to the drill they had constructed together as a team. Satisfied with their answers, Virginia turned the knob on the door and stepped into the dim room beyond.

                The first thing she saw was the last thing she expected to see. At first, she had to blink and shake her head to make sure that the scene was real. It did not change.

                A huddled figure -- a little girl -- sat crouched in the corner of the kitchen. She was staring at Virginia with wide, frightened eyes and soundless to the point of sheer tranquility. With a sudden surge of shock and pity, Virginia darted towards her without stopping to think twice about her situation.

                "Stop right there."

                Her head shot up, along with her torso. When she turned to face the other end of the kitchen, she came to face Jet. The silver-haired Drifter was looking sullen and somewhat irritated, and looking past his motionless frame, Virginia discovered why.

                Attached to the barrel hovering inches from the back of Jet's head was a gun, and attached to that gun was a hand that was in turn attached to an arm attached to a middle-aged, female Drifter with a grave expression.

                "Unarm yourself," said the woman, tediously brushing a lock of black hair from her face. "Unless you want me to give your Drifter friend here a sixth hole in his head."

                ----------------------

**                Quack. I think it's picking up, don't you? Anyway, cliffy. You'll be very acquainted with cliffies in the chapters to come, don't worry. As for the reviews…**

**Ah, BW0, you will simply have to wait…I'm glad you're still enjoying it. And your bones tell the truth. This fic will get much darker, even sadder, soon……and Teefa, yes…it's a cutey wooty dragon puppy! He's so adorable! giggles Well, you'll see soon enough. And Hana no Kaze, you flatter me! It's nice to hear a compliment about my writing, though…'tis kind of you. I'm glad you like my song, too. Anywayz, ah, Skylark! Nice ta finally (er, sort of) officially meet you. You are goddess of all Clive fics. I bow down to you…er, actually I hope you don't mind if I don't. Really bad back. Anyway, let's see…story summary…check. Review replies…check. Merciless groveling…check. All rightzy, see ya next chapter.**

(later on that day…)

**Klox: **Sixth hole in his head? That was beyond lame…

**Yachi: **Do you want to write it? HERE! whips the keyboard at him

**Klox:** gets bonked …..wheee….pretty birdies…..


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